


Smoke and Mirrors

by Greyias



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: (They Just Don't Know It Yet), (in a sense), Awkward Flirting, Case Fic, Conspiracy, Denial of Feelings, F/M, First Meetings, Idiots in Love, Oblivious Pining, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Some Humor, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Forged Alliances, The Jedi Knight's Entire Crew, also starring: - Freeform, and Theron Shan's supporting cast, and questionable letter writing, just a lot of long looks, seriously they don't even kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 10:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 44,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23469874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyias/pseuds/Greyias
Summary: Something's rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won't rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic's top spy can handle on his own.(A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.)
Relationships: Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Theron Shan
Comments: 85
Kudos: 61





	1. New Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story back in, I want to say, the end of 2016, and have been slowly (very slowly) working on it since then. Considering everything going on right now, I figured it might be a good time to start posting something a little entertaining to keep people's minds off things instead of waiting forever for it to be finished. I'll probably be posting new chapters as they're edited (or written, once I get to that point), and plan on continuing to post one-shots and other stories at the same time. 
> 
> Also, just as an FYI, this story is a little different than my usual fare, as it's a direct exploration of canon events rather than a missing scene or epilogue. I have done my best to try and rewrite the dialogue of anything directly from the game so that it hopefully reads as something new and entertaining (rather than just a transcript), but I understand that's not necessarily everyone's cup of tea.

When the Supreme Commander of Republic Forces called — it was generally a good idea to answer. Even if he just so happened to be your father.

However, this was official business, so Theron Shan decided to ignore that fact as he strode into the large office located in one of the corners of the Senate towers. The receptionist had waved him through without any fuss this time around.

Perhaps she had gotten used to him at this point — she hadn’t even glared at him this time. He supposed that was progress. It was nothing he had done, of course, just a bit of guilt-by-association. She and Marcus Trant, the Director of Republic’s Strategic Information Services had gotten quite chummy a little while back, but alas, she was not to become the third women to hold the title of “Mrs. Trant”. Easy come, easy go as the saying went.

Come to think of it, maybe the lack of glares this time around had more to do with the fact that Trant hadn’t accompanied Theron. It was a mystery for another time, though, as his gaze fell on the figure seated behind the desk in the center of the room.

Jace Malcom was an extraordinarily tall man, he towered over Theron by at least a foot or so, and between the height, his deep gravelly voice, and the gruesome scars crisscrossing his face, the man could come off a little imposing. Theron wasn’t easily intimidated though, and he had a… unique situation with Jace. — considering the fact that the man was his father. Biologically at least, or… whatever.

It was complicated.

Theron hadn’t even known who Jace was, outside of his military record that was, until they’d met during the mission to take out the Ascendant Spear. Their first real meeting as father and son hadn’t exactly gone well, it was awkward, Theron had just wanted to leave, and most of their interactions outside of a professional setting had just been a bit like that. On the job, they were good. Despite popular opinion, Theron _could_ take orders (when they made sense),and off the clock they… well, they were trying to settle into something resembling familiarity. The “father-son bonding sessions” were thankfully few and far between. Theron liked Jace well enough, and they certainly got along better than he and his _mother_ , but it wasn’t exactly like they were going to go out and throw the gravball around any time soon.

However, this meeting request had come through official channels, so thankfully that probably meant things would be less awkward and weird. At least he hoped.

Theron cleared his throat, pulling the older man’s attention away from the datapad he was reviewing. Seeing his visitor, some of the deep lines on Jace’s face smoothed into a smile. “Ah, Theron, you’re early.”

“Traffic wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.” He folded his arms in an effort to look casual. “Trant had a Senate briefing, so you get me instead.”

“That’s all right, I was hoping you’d be here for this. We can loop the director in later.”

“Your message was a bit vague,” he said, “just that you had some intel you wanted to discuss?”

Jace nodded. “One of my men came to me with something he picked up in the field — regarding Korriban. And a way we might be able to strike back.”

Theron’s eyebrows shot up. “Hitting Korriban? You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” The elder man looked at him grimly. “This all started on Korriban, it would be fitting for us to start the death knell for the Empire there.”

Korriban had been one of Jace’s first stations, and where he had met the future Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Satele Shan — who just so happened to be Theron’s mother. Theron shifted the weight of his feet, a habit he’d unfortunately picked up in these conversations when the subject of his mother came up, even indirectly as it was now. He hated having a tell, even something so minor and with someone like Jace who while sharp, probably hadn’t picked up on it.

A change of subject from ancient history back to the present was probably in order — and a lot more comfortable. So Theron addressed the deeper issue at hand. “SIS has been trying to get a mole on Korriban for years, and everyone we’ve tried to embed there winds up dead. That place is a death trap.”

“I’m not asking anyone to go undercover,” Jace assured him. “I’m thinking more smash and grab. But before that, I want you to look over this intel and let me know if you think it’s viable.”

“Me?”

“You were the one who cracked how to take out the Ascendant Spear — if anyone can do the same with Korriban, it’s you.”

It was a high compliment, and genuinely based on his skillset, rather than a form of nepotism. After their success against the Ascendent Spear, Theron had been tapped as a resource more and more for Malcom’s office. It had kept him out of the field more than he liked, but the tangible results of his work on the overall war was satisfying in its own way.

“That seems simple enough,” Theron said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Any reason for all of the cloak and dagger?”

“Considering the target I don’t want to take any chances. I want someone I can trust taking point on this.”

Theron couldn’t quite decipher the look on Jace’s face, but nodded a thanks all the same. It was… odd having someone be so complimentary and open about that kind of thing. Trant’s usual way of expressing gratitude was a cutting sarcastic remark. Which he was fine with — it was familiar. Easy. But the mark of a good spy was adapting to the situation at hand.

Even if that meant a little bit of inadvertent father-son bonding.

Jace handed over a small data chip. The fact that he wasn’t trusting any of this on any network channel spoke volumes about the need for discretion.

“I’ll look this over and get you an answer as soon as possible.”

That seemed to satisfy Jace, but as Theron made his way out of the office and out into the streets, he was unsettled. The reason for that feeling wasn’t readily apparent, but hopefully once he had a chance to dig into the data he’d figure it out. He tended to trust his gut on these things, but a chance to strike as rich of a target as this was too good to pass up on a mere bad feeling alone.

* * *

The more he dug into the intel that Jace had given him, the more Theron had to admit that the Supreme Commander was right. A strike on Korriban not only seemed viable, but had the potential to yield invaluable information that could finally lead to an end to the war.

A Jedi named Jensyn had come away from an encounter with an apprentice to a member from the Dark Council, revealing that they had databanks in their main chambers with some of the inner-most secrets to the Empire. A literal goldmine of information that could turn every future battle and operation to the Republic’s favor. It was almost _too_ good of an opportunity to pass up, and so Theron kept digging. Every intelligence report surrounding the encounter checked out, and just because he liked being paranoid, Theron looked into the Jedi too. The man had served aboard the Telos in its campaign in the Albarrio and Relgim sectors, and had an exemplary service record. The closest thing he found to a red flag was the copious amount tea Jensyn liked to consume.

As far as Theron could tell, the intel seemed clean.

That just left the minor problem of storming Siths’ the inner-keep. Just getting on the ground would have been an issue, except that apparently a SpecOps commander named Rian Darok had found a gap in the patrols on Korriban. It wasn’t a large one, and they’d never be able to launch a full-scale assault… but a strike team could make it through and perform an extraction.

Theron filled a large mug to the brim with caf, settled into the most comfortable chair he could find at SIS Headquarters, and got to work mining everything they had on Korriban. He had to cobble the data together from a variety of sources to even get a close picture if it could be done. They had old schematics of the ground layout, but due to the age he had to cross-reference it with a report from an escaped acolyte to confirm the probable obstacles facing a strike team on their route from the landing zone into the Academy. This, coupled with bits and pieces of security information scraped from the almost-defunct Imperial intelligence, yielded an access point for someone on the ground that could allow a talented slicer to insert an exploit. It was technically doable, but the resistance the ground team would face stacked the deck against the op’s favor.

“Viable but a logistical nightmare” was how he summarized it to Jace and Marcus the next morning, gratefully accepting the giant mug of caf the Supreme Commander had ready for him the moment he walked in the door.

“Pay up,” Marcus said, and Jace grudgingly handed over a credit chip.

Theron narrowed his eyes at the both of them suspiciously over the rim of his mug. “And what was that for?”

“Just how quickly you’d go for caffeine,” Marcus said casually.

Theron fixed his boss with a glare before taking a very long drag of the zippy brew. Apparently being Supreme Commander came with some perks, because if the spy wasn’t mistaken, this was the more expensive Alsakan Mountain roast. The director just shook his head and turned to the datapad with all the findings, letting out a low whistle at the potential yield if the operation was successful. As both of the older men perused the data, Theron barely suppressed a yawn. The all-nighter had come at the tail end of an op, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was probably needing at least a few hours of sleep.

“You could have taken _two_ days to look at all this,” Jace said lightly, “but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Intel can go stale quick.” Theron shrugged off the paternal concern easily.

“All the reason to act quickly,” Jace said, “if Trant can spare you for a little bit.”

“Please, _take_ him. Much less of a headache for me.”

“I’m really feeling the love here,” the agent muttered.

“You’d feel more if you turned your expense reports on time.”

“You have to get a thrill somehow since you’re not out in the field anymore,” Theron shot back easily. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Marcus pointed the question at Jace, who just shook his head.

“Well, I’m happy for the loan, Marcus,” he said, turning the subject back to the matter at hand. “I can see how logistics can get sticky, but I think I’ve got someone who can help with that. Colonel Darok has a knack for this kind of thing.”

Having spotted the hole in the patrol route, Theron had to admit the man had a keen eye.

“You’d need a small army just to get through that many Sith. No way to get that many troops in,” Theron pointed out. “I don’t even see how even a master tactician is going to navigate that. ”

“What about a small strike team?” Marcus asked.

“Might work, but they’d need to have hides of durasteel.”

Jace looked thoughtful for a moment, before he headed over to his desk and pulled up a few dossiers on a datapad. He paged through a few, before handing it over to Theron. “Have you ever heard of the Coruscant Aegis?”

“Never met them personally,” Theron paused to take another sip from his mug before continuing, “but one of them provided cover fire on an extraction for me once.”

Marcus snorted, apparently remembering the incident in question. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“I needed to make a hasty exit, and the lady was kind enough to clear a path. At least I think it was a lady—there was a _lot_ of blaster fire. Pretty sure she called me insane.”

“That sounds about right.” Marcus heaved the heavy sigh of the wearied soul.

“I suppose I owe whoever it was some thanks,” Theron said. “Probably wouldn’t have made it out without the assist. Some nice flying and shooting.”

“They’re good at what they do,” Jace agreed, “the best actually.”

“Are any of them lightsaber-proof?” Theron asked sarcastically.

“They haven’t let one stop any of them so far.”

Theron juggled the mug and datapad, skimming through the personnel files as he continued to sip from the sweet caffeinated nectar. He tried to school his expression as he skimmed through the major highlights of each name, but the laundry list of heroic deeds associated with each individual was quite impressive. A notorious smuggler who had taken down the Voidwolf. The commander of Havoc Squad. Even a member of the Jedi High Council. It was the last one that made Theron stop and frown.

“Is this last one even real?” he asked.

Jace nodded solemnly. “She is.”

“It says she killed the Sith Emperor.”

That got Marcus’s attention, who leaned over Theron’s shoulder to read the dossier. Not liking the crowding, he handed the datapad over to his boss, and proceeded to prop his hip on Jace’s desk, still nursing the mug of caf.

“You asked for a small army,” Jace pointed out. “Any of them would be able to perform the extraction.”

“I’d say in that case we should get them all,” Theron said, “but they’re probably pretty scattered.”

Their window of opportunity to strike for this was going to close fast, though, so time was of the essence. It was probably also best to keep the number of those aware of the operation on the lower side too. Even if they _were_ going to take on the entire Sith Academy, and maybe even the Dark Council.

Jace nodded. “You probably can get one in all likelihood.”

“Me, huh?”

“Colonel Darok will be in charge of the operation,” Jace clarified, “but I want the SIS involved on this. This is too big of a target to not bring in our best.”

Theron caught the backhanded compliment, but instead of responding verbally, he just nodded. “I can do some recruiting if you want. You have a preference?”

“Surprise me.”

Jace flashed him a brief knowing grin, and Theron checked the urge to roll his eyes. He was fairly certain Marcus wasn’t aware of the familial connection, so showing disrespect to the man who was technically his boss’s boss probably wouldn’t help things in the long run. Knowing the way his luck tended to run, Theron would probably need to appeal to the director’s better nature in the next month for some reason or another. Theron didn’t _intentionally_ cause diplomatic and inter-departmental incidents, they just tended to… happen. Sometimes. And by sometimes he meant like clockwork.

“I’m going to need a little time to dig into the files if that’s the case,” he said instead of rising to the teasing.

“That’s fine.” If Jace was disappointed in Theron’s utter professionalism, it didn’t show, and the moment of levity slipped away. "It will take me some time to get Darok caught up and for us to put a battle plan together.”

Theron nodded and pocketed the datapad from Marcus. “Exactly how much time are we talking about?”

“Enough that you can sleep on it,” Jace tried to keep his tone light, but Theron still caught a hint of paternal concern threading underneath.

“Sleep?” Marcus snorted derisively. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I sleep when I’m bored,” Theron shot back.

“Good. Then you’ll be out before you even get through the first dossier.”

“Are you kidding? This is better than a holo-drama.” The spy tapped his pocket where he had stowed the datapad.

Jace just shook his head, amused, and the discussion turned to other matters of intelligence. Theron let himself out once he finished his mug of caf, the weight of the datapad in his pocket a reminder of the upcoming mission. Despite the caffeine, he could feel fatigue pulling at him. Either the long hours were getting to him, or the unsettled feeling from the previous day was still eating at him. Maybe after he was able to study the personnel files some more, he could take a moment to review his notes and pinpoint what was bothering him. And _then_ he could get some sleep.


	2. The Coruscant Aegis

Rather than head back to the Heorem Complex, Theron decided to review his notes and the personnel files back at his apartment. While he didn’t really care all that much if he attracted a few looks for his unkempt appearance from the all-nighter he just pulled, the thought of perusing the data in the comfort of his own bed was too tempting to pass up. If he needed to do any research that required heavier security protocols than what he already had in place, he could always head in at that point.

As he sunk into the mattress, he pulled up the file on the first member of the Coruscant Aegis, codename “Guardian”. Known in wider circles as Barsen’thor, the newest member of the Jedi High Council. He managed to make it about a third of the way through the file before his chin dropped as he started to nod off. Unable to let Marcus Trant be right about anything, Theron woke himself up with a quick shower in the refresher before powering through the rest of the file.From what he could tell “Guardian” was more than capable, but a quick search of the HoloNet showed that the Jedi Master was in Temesher on a diplomatic mission. If the underground chatter was to be believed, “Ace”, the Voidhound, was similarly occupied. Although probably for less legitimate business then the Jedi Master. He filed both of them away as potential assets for future operations, but moved on to the next file.

He paged through the dossier on “Meteor”, liking what he was seeing. Leader of Havoc Squad, a fellow recipient of the Cross of Glory, and had a whole squad of heavy hitters that could be tapped into. The major had been a key player in taking out the Gauntlet — one of the weapons designed by Darth Mekhis. The dossier was _long_ , and by the time he got to the end, he was tempted to just call it there for Havoc Squad so he could feel justified in giving into the temptation to close his eyes for a few minutes. (Not to mention it’d drive Jonas Balkar nuts if Theron sniped his favorite operative.)

However, he’d had left the most intriguing one for last. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dying of curiosity to be able to review more details of the Sith Emperor’s demise. Even so, he massaged his temples, the tension mounting behind his implants letting him know he was going to need rest soon if he had any hope of continuing to focus. This dossier was just as long as the rest, and his eyes almost crossed looking at the text.

“Okay,” he admitted quietly, “may need a break.”

He was loathe to take one, though, considering the narrow window of opportunity they were having to work with. He compromised by making a large pot of stimcaf, nowhere near the quality of Jace’s stash, but still decent enough to get the job done. While it brewed, he closed his eyes and focused his mind, acknowledging the fatigue and need for sleep, before releasing it out. By the time the caf maker chimed that it was ready, the tension headache had faded to the far corner of his consciousness. He would still need to sleep later, but this would help him focus for a few more hours.

With a mug of caf in hand as well as a sandwich to stave off hunger, Theron pulled up a chair far from the bed, and whipped out the dossier on the last candidate, codename “Shield”.

While not exactly a household name, the Hero of Tython was definitely not an unknown player on the galactic scale, especially in the intelligence community. For some reason, she kept getting recruited into SIS operations, and her notoriety had started to spread beyond that after she had halted Darth Malgus’s attempted coup.

The dossier began with her apprenticeship on Tython to Orgus Din, one of the living legends of the first Galactic War. As he pored over the details, he couldn’t help but frown, his earlier statement to Jace coming to mind. It was a little hard to believe that one person had wound up doing so much in such a short time. Capturing a dark Jedi while an apprentice, exposing and defeating a Sith infiltrator on Coruscant, saving several planets from Darth Angral’s campaign of destruction.

When he started seeing familiar names crop up in the report, Theron grabbed a spare datapad with a secure connection and pulled up the relevant SIS reports. He was familiar enough with several of the agents involved, and was curious if there were any extra details to be gleaned outside of the official dossier. He mostly just found _more_ operations that weren’t in the main dossier, including one from Agent Fauler on his takedown of a Czerka coverup on Tatooine.

At least an hour had passed, and he was only a third finished with the main dossier. He was about halfway through the pot of caf, and was starting to get irritated with the glowing reviews from his fellow agents, when the main dossier got… interesting.

As in, Shan family lineage interesting. He’d only been lightly skimming the portion of her work with Oteg, the Jedi commander of the _Telos_ , until he saw the mention of the Maelstrom Prison, and namely, it’s sole prisoner: Revan.

He thought that the fate of the famous off-and-on-again Jedi Knight and Sith Lord had been lost to history. Apparently after passing on the family genes, he’d gone after the Sith Emperor himself and failed. Only to be rescued from his three-hundred year imprisonment by the woman who ultimately finished the job.

Theron frowned, finger tapping the side of the datapad absently. He was never a big fan of coincidences and he wasn’t a believer in fate or destiny. The connection between Revan and this woman was pretty glaringly obvious, and if Master Zho was still around, he probably would have said it was the will of the Force. An angry bitterness rose up in the back of his throat, but Theron managed to push it down just below the surface.

After his failed apprenticeship under Nagani Zho, Theron had tried to put his whole ancestry behind him. If the Force didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted to return the favor. He’d managed to do just that for almost a decade, when apparently it decided to pull him back into the fold with his mission with Master Zho and Teff’ith to the Vesla system, and then later with Gnost-Dural and the Ascendant Spear.

He shoved the stupid coincidence and happenstance to the back of his mind, but there was still the lingering question of Revan’s fate. The official records were sparse, just that he had been rescued from the prison built for him in the Maelstrom Nebula, and had fallen in battle with Imperials in the Nanth’ri system before he could ever see the end of the Emperor who held him prisoner for so long. It seemed like such ignoble end for the legendary Knight, but then again life wasn’t fair.

The bitterness still burned in his throat, but Theron forced himself to focus back on his original task rather than this side-trek down the family album, and pulled back up the excessively long dossier.

Except as he stared at the text, his brain had latched onto something. He blew out a breath, took another sip of the bitter brew in attempt to convince himself that was what he was tasting rather than his own feelings. He looked back over the section on Revan again, eyes falling on the location of the prison he’d been rescued from.

The Maelstrom Nebula… why was that familiar?

He pulled up a galactic map, and the Maelstrom Nebula was located on the borders of the Albarrio and Relgim sectors. And Oteg commanded the _Telos_. He blinked at the map, watching the pixelated swirls of green space dust whirl in the air. The Jedi that had discovered the key piece of intel for the upcoming operation had served during that campaign. Of course, the crew manifest for the _Telos_ was large. It was a warship. A lot of people had served on it. The holo flickered, and Theron stared at it, that same funny feeling settling over him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He continued to glare at the map, as if he could connect the two dots by sheer force and willpower.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming to him. With a sigh, he pulled back up the dossier, and continued reading. The sooner he finished this file, the sooner he could make his decision and call it a night.

Next up was the mission on Balmorra, which on the surface appeared to be aiding the resistance and helping fight off the Empire. However, Theron had read enough redacted files to tell when details were being conveniently left out. He recalled his brief partnership with Master Gnost-Dural, and the revelation that the Jedi did their own intelligence gathering. It made sense that they would also have their own version of black ops.

Theron continued down the rabbit hole, from the side-trip to Quesh, through the adventures on Hoth. There were a lot of flashy rescues, a few high profile military operations, and some side missions for the Grand Master herself, before “Shield” showed up again on Belsavis.

About halfway through the section on Belsavis, he frowned, remembering the riots fairly clearly. Partially because he’d been there for part of it. He retraced back to the last few missions on Hoth, searching for the detail that he missed. It wasn’t there, but as he started reviewing the dates, it struck him what _was_ missing.

About six plus months.

No mention of any duties or activities, just a sudden jump in time. Theron quickly started a search on his other datapad, but as he delved further and further into the details of Shield’s personal life, he still couldn’t find anything regarding what she’d been up to during the time in question. No record of a leave of absence, no MIA report, no purchase history, or travel dossiers, just a giant hole that had been carefully written around. Not even a whisper or mention of her in any Republic records, almost like she hadn’t been there at all during the time.

Someone had wiped this woman’s record clean of something they didn’t want getting out.

He glared at the datapad, as if it was directly responsible for the deed. It was enough of a red flag for him that he almost closed the file right there, regardless of the glowing recommendations of his fellow agents and the obvious admiration and confidence of both the Jedi Grand Master and the Supreme Commander.

But damn it, he hadn’t even gotten to the part about the Emperor yet. He didn’t set his reservation aside, though, even as he resumed his review of the dossier. The contents had definitely taken a turn for the darker, as he read about death cults, insanity rituals, the capture of several dark Jedi, and the liberation of Corellia.

Somewhere, buried within all of the heroics (did this woman ever _sleep_?), he found the reason for the urgency, and the sudden dark turn. It was a small line, possibly hastily tacked on to the end of the report regarding a fallen Jedi Master, Tol Braga, that discussed a dark side ritual to…

Theron felt his stomach drop, and re-read the line again just to be sure.

No, he’d read it right the first time. The Sith, or at least the Emperor’s inner circle, had been trying to complete a dark side ritual that would annihilate all life in the _galaxy_.

He tried to ignore the cold feeling of dread as he moved on in the dossier. He was finally to the part about Dromund Kaas and the raid on the Dark Temple. What he found curious, and if he were being honest with himself, more than a little impressive, was the account that Shield had taken on the Emperor by herself, with only a T7 unit as backup. The mission was what had earned her a Cross of Glory, as well as the rest of her crew (even the droid and _Sith_ on her crew).

The rest of her exploits after that were a little wider known, things he had heard of, if he hadn’t exactly connected the name with the deed until now. Taking down Darth Malgus, saving the people of Makeb, even that whole mess with Czerka on CZ-198.

Damn it.

He kneaded his forehead as his tension headache started to creep through, his frustration mounting. Any of the Coruscant Aegis would be equipped to handle the Korriban job, but only one of them had already stormed an Imperial world in a similar manner. The fact that the little Jedi overachiever just kept saving the galaxy at every turn made it harder for him to ignore.

Except that someone had scrubbed her records to hide something. Considering her notoriety, it was probably something dirty. As far as assets went, dirt was great when _he_ knew what it was and could use it to leverage things his way. It was more of a liability in this case, as the lack of information meant things could spiral out of hand very quickly.

Theron glanced at the chrono, seeing that it had started to edge into evening. His long ignored fatigue dragged at him, and his bed called to him. Even if he still didn’t have his recommendation, he’d at least finished his review of the files. If he slept now, at least he could feel justified in the fact that Marcus couldn’t be right. And Jace _did_ say that Theron could sleep on the decision, so he did just that.

And if his sleep was just a little haunted by a dark spectre attempting to devour the galaxy, he wasn’t going to mention it to anyone.


	3. Codenames

He’d gone with Shield, because of _course_ he had. His reservations about that gap in the file were mostly just suspicions, and it was hard to ignore the fact that the woman described in the file seemed ridiculously capable. Now, if only he could wipe that knowing grin off of Jace’s face.

“Thought you might go with her,” the older man rumbled, tone entirely too smug.

“It was a numbers game,” Theron muttered, “one Cross of Glory recipient versus an entire ship full."

“Of course.” His father sounded anything but convinced, and then sobered some as a large man decked out in SpecOps armor entered the office. “Ah, just in time. Theron Shan, meet Rian Darok.”

Darok shook Theron’s hand with an almost bone breaking grip. The colonel practically towered over the SIS Agent, and actually even had a few centimeters over Jace which seemed like an accomplishment in itself. Dark brows narrowed in contemplation, and Theron got the distinct impression that he was being sized up in some way. He returned the scrutiny with a tight-lipped smile.

“Always a pleasure to work with the SIS,” Darok said, “Agent _Shan_.”

The emphasis placed on his surname made Theron abort the handshake and take a step back to reclaim his personal space. “Yes, well, we all try to do our part, Colonel.”

“Interesting last name.”

“Not really. It’s pretty common according to the last Republic census.” Theron let his gaze briefly slip over to Jace, but the older man had already drifted over to the large holo-table across the room with a projection of a dogfight over a large planet and wasn’t paying attention to their conversation.

“Common among Jedi too.”

“Wouldn’t know much about that, seeing as I carry a blaster and not a lightsaber,” Theron bit back, letting his irritation bleed into his tone.

“Sure,” Darok said, seeming to let the subject drop.

They joined Jace over at the holo-table, and upon closer inspection Theron could see that it was a representation of Korriban and a simulation of the patrol schedule. A frown played across the Supreme Commander’s face as he watched the simulation. The _Harrower_ -class dreadnought passed through the planetary orbit, before heading out to continue its patrol of the system. Displayed on the map, the opening was now glaringly obvious. Theron watched as holograms of an entire squadron, including a Hammerhead, some Thranta-class corvettes, and several of BT-7 Thunderclap ships come out of hyperspace and then immediately start the bombardment. As soon as they entered the atmosphere a second wave of ships jumped in, following the path they carved to the surface. It was a risky maneuver, and one that required perfect timing to pull off.

Theron was starting to feel lucky that he only had to recruit one individual rather than pick out the pilots for this operation. Darok stalked by, glaring at the holo-table as if it had personally insulted him as the simulation switched from the orbital view to the planetary view. The gaps in their intelligence were more glaring here, as several crude representations of the Academy’s layout filled the holo.

Apparently Jace picked up on the tension between his two leads on the operation, because Theron felt a nudge to his shoulder. “Is there a problem?”

His father had intentionally pitched his voice low, so only Theron could hear. If he thought about it for more than two galactic seconds, the prodding on his genealogy wasn’t that big of a deal. And it shouldn’t have rankled so much that the first thing people thought of when hearing the name “Shan” was “Jedi”.

“I want a codename,” he muttered petulantly. “Can you work on that?”

“How about ‘Theron Malcom’?”

“No,” he said flatly. “Never mind. You don’t get to make codenames.”

“Why not?”

“Because it needs to be _covert_.” And not lame. “Like Zerosum.”

“Must be in the genes. I’m rescinding your permission to name things as well.” Theron wrinkled his nose, but Jace turned his attention back to the other man in the room before another snarky response could be made. “Colonel, is there an issue with the holo-table?”

“No sir,” Darok said curtly, “just reviewing every angle to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

“Have we?”

“A name to attach to our second wave. Seems like an important part of the operation.”

Jace motioned to Theron, who crossed his arms as he met Darok’s even stare. “Jedi Master Greyias Highwind.”

He used the actual name on the file, partially for name recognition, but also because it was unclear if the colonel had clearance to know the identities of the Coruscant Aegis. Darok’s stony expression faltered for a moment, a brief look of curiosity stealing across it before the frown fixed itself back into place. “The Hero of Tython? That seems a little high-profile for a covert operation.”

“She can do the job,” Theron shot back, “and none of this is exactly groundbreaking territory for her from her file.”

“Her file? She hasn’t been read in yet?”

“I was waiting for final authorization before spilling the beans on our little party.”

“You have it,” Jace cut in. “Do what you need to pull her in. We need our best on this, gentlemen, understood?”

From his tone, it was clear the Supreme Commander was talking about more than the Jedi in question, an unstated order for both of them to work out whatever issues they had for the good of the mission. Darok gave his commanding officer a curt nod, and Theron acknowledged it as well with a tight bob of his head. He didn’t have to _like_ Darok to work with him.

“I suggest we move this operation to Carrick Station. It will be easier to coordinate and gather my forces for the assault.” Darok spared a glance across the table. “Hopefully Master Highwind will decide to join us there.”

“She’ll be there,” Theron promised, “don’t worry about that.”

“That’s good to hear.” Jace crossed his arms. “Just remember that our window of opportunity to pull this off will close if we wait too long.”

“Don’t worry, sir, my team will be ready.”

“So will mine,” Theron tossed back.

“Then I’ll leave this in your capable hands, gentlemen. If all goes well, the next time we meet we’ll be toasting to the end of the Empire.”

As Jace turned away, both Theron and Darok shifted their positions, sizing each other up. The colonel resting his sizable fists on his hips, Theron crossing his arms as he glared up at the taller man.

“I guess we’ll see if you can get our guest of honor to show up on such short notice.”

“You worry about the logistics of your own men, Colonel,” Theron said coolly. “I can handle wrangling one little Jedi Knight.”


	4. Recruitment Drive

Carrick Station was a hub of activity as usual. The little T3 unit navigated through the crowds of soldiers, Jedi, privateers, and every other walk of life in between as it sought its quarry.

It was sending a feed directly to Theron via his implants, but he was only half paying attention to its progress as Darok briefed the essential personnel on the strike plan. They’d already gone over it with everyone in person, but the SpecOps officer seemed like he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Theron could almost admire that. Almost, because if the man asked _one_ more time about the status of their guest of honor he was going tell the Colonel exactly what he could do with that stick shoved up his ass.

The _Defender_ was already docked on Carrick Station, it was just a matter of finding its commander so Theron could formally extend the invitation to their little party. Technically she and the crew were here on R&R after their latest mission, a somewhat clerical error that had _accidentally_ been slipped into their duty roster the moment he’d gotten authorization to bring her in on the operation. Ideally he preferred to try and recruit assets face-to-face when at all possible, but the short timeline on this mission made that difficult.

“Oh, hello there.” An amused feminine voice drifted across the feed from the astromech. “Are you looking for something?”

“You = act casual,” the little astromech beeped at the woman seriously, “T3-G2 recruiting for classified operation.”

“Of course.”

It was hard to tell just from the voice, but Theron thought it sounded like she was humoring the astromech.

“T3, get me a visual confirmation,” he muttered to the droid, slipping out of the main room as Darok shot him an annoyed look for speaking out of turn. He ducked into an alcove just as the video feed treated him to the image of a woman a few years his junior kneeling in front of the droid, unsuccessfully hiding a tiny smile at it. The freckle-kissed complexion and light hair swept back up into a neat ponytail matched the holo in the file. The indulgent smile she treated the droid with was more unexpected. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from his first look at the famous Jedi, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“That’s her. Good job, T3.” Theron quickly pulled out his holocomm before she lost interest and established an encrypted two-way video link.

As soon as his image shimmered to life in front of her, he saw her brow raise in curiosity, and she pulled herself to her feet so she was on an even height with the holo in front of her. The fond amusement smoothed into a carefully neutral expression as she tucked her arms behind her back in a composed stance more typical of a member of her order.

“Ah, just the Jedi we’ve been looking for,” he said by way of greeting. “You know, you’re a hard woman to track down.”

“I see you brought a friend on your recruitment drive.” The comment was directed to the droid.

“T3-G2 = muscle,“ the droid whistled. “Recruitment = new job duty.”

“Well, you’re doing a very good job.” She graced the astromech with another smile.

“Hey, remember me?” Theron waved to regain her attention, acutely aware of the lack of security of an extended conversation in even a relatively deserted corner of an open hallway.

“And you are?”

“SIS.” He saw the careful expression slip for a moment, brows drawing together in concern for a moment before smoothing back out again. “We’ve got a little bit of a special event coming up. The guest list is very exclusive.”

“That sounds very nice. I hope it goes well for you.”

“Well, seeing as you’re _on_ the guest list, I’d hope you might make an appearance.” A flare of irritation began to light up in him, but he tamped it back down, suspecting she might have been trying to gain some sort of reaction from him. That calm politeness was surely some sort of facade.

“I don’t recall ever receiving an invitation.” She arched an eyebrow.

He snapped his fingers. “I knew I forgot something.”

“That’s usually an important step in party planning.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for my next shindig. Are you interested in attending this one?”

“That all depends. What kind of party is this exactly?”

“The kind the Empire won’t enjoy.”

 _That_ got a reaction, her neutral expression smoothing away into concern. “Exactly what’s the dress code for this event?”

“Come as you are,” he said casually, waving a hand at her armor and the lightsabers clipped to her belt. “Besides, I have a feeling our hosts are going to be too busy to be very picky about fashion.”

“Uh huh,” she said disbelievingly. “Are you going to be joining this affair, or does your astromech need to finish taking you on your walk first?”

Darok peered over into the alcove, flashing him an impatient look for the lengthy conversation. Theron pressed his lips together in a thin line as he turned back to the call. “More details when we meet in person—see you soon.”

“Wait, you didn’t—”

Theron cut the line, trying not to roll his eyes. “T3, will you escort our guest to the briefing room?”

He heard the droid beep an affirmative, and dialed down the audio on the feed so he could address the impatient SpecOps officer glaring at him.

“Are you finished?”

“Just wrapping up the guest list,” he tossed back.

“About time.”

“Yes, well, if I’d had more than a few days notice on this entire operation and the ability to speak somewhat freely, maybe that would have gone faster.”

“Neither of which is a luxury we have.” The taller man crossed his arms, gaining a few extra centimeters as he pushed his shoulders back. “What’s our ETA?”

Theron’s teeth ground together as he reminded himself of the larger objective, that unfortunately at this moment, wasn’t taking the uptight soldier down a notch. He stalked back over to the holo-table that had the battle plan mapped out and swiped at one of the holographic representations of the ships to relieve some frustration — but the image just flickered at his touch.

“My astromech is bringing her here directly for the briefing.”

“Good.” The response was just as curt as the rest of the man’s demeanor. He returned his attention back to the holograms depicting the strike team’s narrow window of opportunity, and re-enabled the mic on his earpiece. “Yes, yes that’s correct.”

Theron crossed his arms, listening to the fifth recitation of the battle plan. He kept an eye on the progress of T3’s journey across the station, absently pacing as he listened to Darok with half an ear.

“…bombing commences on signal ‘aurek’.”

A quiet trill echoed across the line, and distantly Theron thought he heard it outside of the room. He shot a glance back at Darok, who was still aggressively pacing in front of the holo-table.

“Wave one shuttle will land on Korriban’s surface and secure the landing zone—”

“And then wave two comes in,” Theron piped up, just as the doors swished open to reveal the woman he’d been talking to on the holo. He caught her eye, nodding ever so slightly in greeting. “Perfect timing.”

It would have been inaccurate to say that time itself seemed to slow as the Jedi swept into the room — time didn’t work like that. The chrono continued to tick on regardless, but maybe it was just the perception of time itself that seemed to stop for just a few seconds.

Highwind only glanced at him briefly, gaze zeroing in on Darok. While holos were good at capturing the likeness of someone, they usually did a poor job of communicating the presence of a person. Each step she took was deliberate, confident, with her shoulders thrown back and a resolute set of her jaw transforming what should have been a graceful flow into a commanding presence. Her armor glinted as she passed under the overhead light, the brown embroidered cape billowing behind her, and the air of authority in every step left no doubt that this was the famed Hero of Tython.

She didn’t demand attention out loud, but she had successfully captured the attention of every eye in the room without having to utter a single word. It really was quite the trick.

“Did I hear you correctly?” Her words seemingly broke whatever the spell she had weaved with her entrance, time jerking back into motion. While her tone was cordial on the surface, there was a hint of underlying reproach. “You’re actually planning to attack on Korriban?”

“Yes,” Darok turned to face her, crossing his arms as he drew up to his full height, “we are.”

Despite that he practically towered over her, she didn’t look the least bit intimidated or even moved by the taller man. She crossed her arms, the large shoulder guards seeming to add an extra bit of presence to the petite form as she gazed at the colonel placidly. “I see.”

“You’re critical to this mission’s success, Master Highwind.”

“I don’t recall us having been introduced.”

“This is Colonel Darok,” Theron chimed in, “he’s in charge of our little shindig.”

Her eyes cut across the table at him, recognition dawning on her expression. “Ah, the party planner from the holo.”

“In a way.” He shrugged, tilting his head to side. “I’m Theron Shan, SIS.”

He saw it the moment the words left his mouth. Her blue eyes widened ever so slightly, blonde brows arching together as she suddenly took a second, closer look at him even from across the distance. A recognition lit in her eyes, and she didn’t need to actually speak for him to know what she was going to say next, but that didn’t stop her. “Shan—you look—you… don’t happen to be related to Satele Shan, do you?”

To his credit, he didn’t groan, but he couldn’t check the annoyed mutter. “This is why I keep asking for a codename.”

A really cool one too. One that distracted anyone from any stupid family resemblance.

Her guarded expression softened into open curiosity, and she looked like she wanted to continue that line of questioning further. Theron was saved from further scrutiny by Darok of all people, who cleared his throat to regain the attention of the room.

“You two can discuss genealogy later,” he said firmly, “at a less critical time.”

“Of course.” She gave just the barest of nods to Darok, but didn’t tear her gaze away from Theron. “Why did you not tell me the target up front?”

“Open comms aren’t the safest place for honesty.” He frowned, getting the feeling she was still trying to puzzle out his connection to the Grand Master. “And considering the target, I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“And if I had walked away?”

“I would have gone for the direct approach, if I needed to.” He shrugged lightly. “I can be very convincing when I want to be.”

“Can you now?” One of those blonde brows arched again, obscuring that brief, soft expression that had crossed her face the moment she suspected he was related to Satele.

That familiar annoyance was trying to surge to the front, but he was able to keep it tamped down. They needed her for this operation, so _he_ needed to stay on her good side. “I have my ways.”

“Invading the homeworld of the Sith is not a task to be taken lightly,” she admonished.

“Oh, we’re quite serious, Master Jedi,” Darok rumbled. “This is a chance to make history.”

“A Jedi does not seek fame or glory, Colonel.”

Theron’s lips twitched, but he managed to suppress a smile even as Darok glowered.

“We’re not here to seek glory—”

“Then what is your purpose? And exactly how am I to factor into it?”

“We’re raiding the Sith Academy,” Darok rumbled. “More specifically, the databanks held inside the Dark Council chambers.”

“Really… the Dark Council. Is that wise?”

“Considering who you’ve gone up against,” Theron said lightly, “I’m going to lay a bet that you’d be able to pull it off.”

A brief shadow passed across her face, so quick Theron wasn’t sure if he hadn’t just imagined it. “You certainly seem to know a lot about me, Agent Shan.”

“I read a lot, what can I say?” He crossed his arms as he sized her up, trying to find the best tactic to get her to agree. “The information inside of those databanks could be the key to ending the war.”

He didn’t mention the benefits of ending the war, instead let her fill in the blanks herself. It was a stalling and fishing tactic. Let out the line, see if the target took the bait. Adapt and hone in from there.

This was the problem with only getting to know an asset through a file and public records — it was difficult to tell what exactly motivated her. She could have been a glory hound, a uptight traditionalist, or anything really. Ideally he’d have observed her for a lot longer time, would have sliced her communications, studied her before ever initiating contact. But he didn’t have the time for that, and this was why he was the best. Because he was adaptable — which was good, because thus far, she was not lining up with any of his expectations.

Whatever the complicated machinery that made Highwind tick, apparently he’d hit the right note. The lingering resistance drained out of her expression and she gave him the barest of nods. “What do I need to do?”

“The first attack wave is going to clear the landing zone. You’re in the second wave, just head into the Academy and go get the plans.”

“I doubt I’m going to just be invited in.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got those, then, isn’t it?” Theron indicated the set of twin silver sabers clipped to her belt. “Word is you’re pretty handy with them.”

She gave him a look, expression indicating she was about to say something, but pressed her lips together in a thin line instead. After a moment, she glanced at both of the men. “Have the Empire’s forces really become so weak that we can charge straight in like this?”

“Not exactly,” Darok said, “we’re exploiting a brief gap in their patrols, which is why we have to move immediately.”

“I take it this gap doesn’t occur often then?”

“No,” he said flatly. “And before you ask, we won’t have time to land necessary hardware for a full-scale demolition.”

“I wasn’t going to ask _that_ ,” she said, almost sounding offended. “That seems unnecessary for the task at hand.”

Ah, so she was one of _those_ kind of Jedi, Theron mused. He probably needed to guide the conversation back on track before Darok derailed it with his military overzealousness. “What I believe the colonel was trying to say, is that we need you to be quick about this”

“I don’t really wish to spend a great deal of time on Korriban. Once I find my way into the inner sanctum of the Dark Council and retrieve this data,” she was choosing her words carefully, but the tone was laced with skepticism, “exactly what am I supposed to do at that point?”

“Exfiltrate immediately and rendezvous back here,” Darok said. “With a payload this sensitive it’ll need an escort.”

“And what of the Sith Academy?”

“My associate, Commander Jensyn will be securing the rear. He’ll remain behind to collect secondary objectives as time allows.”

“And what are those?”

Darok’s rebuke of the question came quick and sharp. “Your immediate concern should be securing our primary objective, Master Jedi, and any obstacle that stands in your way of achieving that.”

She frowned at him, crossing her arms and raising her chin up defiantly. “You mean, the _people_ standing in my way, Colonel.”

It appeared Darok wasn’t very good at first impressions in general, not just with overworked SIS agents. On one hand, it was nice to see someone else stand toe-to-toe with the blowhard, but unfortunately he was right about one thing, and that was the ticking countdown on their opening.

And since Highwind was his asset, it was his job to keep her focused on the mission at hand. Factoring in what he’d observed so far, Theron decided that the softer approach would probably yield the best results. “Look, I know it’s a tough job — this is one of the most secure facilities in the galaxy. And that’s even before you get to the Dark Council chambers.”

Highwind shot him a glance, a little bit of the umbrage bleeding away as she met his eye. “I really hope you have a map. It doesn’t sound like there’s much time to get lost.”

“I’ve got a schematic of everything right here.” It was only a little bit of a white lie. But he’d be able to fill in the blanks once the strike team got on the ground. “I’ll let you know if you’re about to take the scenic route.”

“You know what kind of scenery I should expect?”

“You mean other than sand?”

“Funny.” Her nose wrinkled as she tried to keep from smiling. There, that was the right reaction. “Are you planning on coming along, or is your astromech going to take you on another stroll?”

“Figured I’d stay here. I’ve gotten plenty of exercise for the day.” He motioned for her to join him on his side of the table, and she seemed glad to put some distance between her and Darok. “Let me take a look at your comm before you go. That way we can stay in touch.”

She handed over her earbud, and he quickly began to make some modifications to it. It was standard-issue fare, which would suffice for most operations, but since no one in the Republic had actually set foot on Korriban it was hard to tell if anything would interfere with the signal once she got out of range of the landing zone. There were a few extra bands that were typically locked out that he could route to if they encountered any interference. He paused in his work, feeling her watching more than just his work on the earbud.

“Sorry,” she said quietly when he met her eye, face flushing ever so slightly, “just now that I’m looking for it, I really can see the family resemblance.”

He narrowed an eyebrow, trying to keep the normal rise of irritation to a minimum. They were getting along so well, what with their mutual dislike of the colonel glowering at them both from the other side of the room. “I really wouldn’t know. It’s not like she and I have spent much time together.”

“Is she your…?”

He rolled his eyes, but decided that satiating her curiosity would probably cut the conversation short in the long run. “Yes, she’s my mother.”

On the other side of the room, he thought he saw Darok perk up, as if listening in, but when Theron looked the other man was occupied with something on a datapad. He returned his attention back to the Jedi, whose expression had taken on a curious softness as she studied him. Recalling that their names seemed to crop up together a lot in the file, he wondered again exactly how close this woman was to his mother.

“It’s not something I like to advertise,” he added. “For obvious reasons, on both sides.”

“I understand,” she intoned quietly. “I apologize for prying, Agent Shan.”

“Call me Theron.” Perhaps she’d be a little more apt to let the subject drop if she wasn’t constantly reminded of it by the use of his surname. He made a few final adjustments before holding the earbud back out to her. “You should be good to go. Now I’ll be able to hear what you hear.”

“Will you now?”

“Every word.”

“I was hoping to speak with my crew before I left. I hope that you will not begin eavesdropping until we reach Korriban.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Any reason I should?”

“No.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Just keep your head up. If we’re successful, we could learn more about the Empire’s moves than every SIS operation from the past decade combined.”

“This is not the first mission of this kind that I’ve gone on, Theron.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She fixed the earbud back into place, and gave him a measured look. “I’m starting to feel like you know a lot more about me than I do about you.”

He returned the look in kind. “We can always exchange backstories when you get back, if you _really_ want to.”

“Why do you not sound so enthused about your own idea?” She shot back easily.

He grimaced slightly, not expecting to be caught and tripped up by his own sarcasm. “Fine, how about this? If you pull this off, the first round’s on me.”

“The first round of what?”

“Drinks.” He rested a fist on his hip. “To celebrate.”

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I’m going for optimistic here.”

She pressed her lips together, unsuccessfully smothering a smile. “Very well.”

“Our forces are ready,” Darok barked. “Victory for the Republic depends on you.”

“No pressure,” Theron added.

That did summon a smile. Just a small one, but it still seemed to light up her face, the freckles on the bridge of her nose crinkling with the motion. “Then I should probably go now. I need to inform my crew of the change in plans.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Theron tapped his ear. He hesitated for a moment, the standard phrase feeling awkward on his tongue, but he forced it out anyway. “May the Force be with you.”

She dipped her head gratefully, that small smile still playing at her lips. “And with you both as well.”


	5. Welcome to Korriban

So while on the side of annoying, apparently Darok’s habit of repeating a battle plan until everyone could recite it in their sleep worked. Or maybe the strategy that the colonel and Jace had come up with was just that solid, because everything went off exactly as outlined. As much as Theron hated to admit it, it was a refreshing change of pace. The way things tended to go in the intelligence world, he tended to have to fall back on Plan Forn, or more probably more accurately, Plan “Frak”, since that word seemed to be uttered a lot under his breath.

The first wave of the attack caught the Imperials completely off guard, and the strike team was able to establish a landing zone with almost no casualties.

A holographic image of Korriban shimmered into life on part of the table as the holocam on the other end came online. The distance between the Core Worlds and Imperial Space meant the connection was weaker, and combined with interference from scrambling signals on the ground caused the image to flicker more than usual. Theron had seen holos of the Sith homeworld before, but it was somehow different watching from a live feed. Not quite like being there, but close enough. Their view from the holocam caught the wide desert expanse, the silhouettes of immense statues looming in the distance. The drop zone was situated perfectly on a high edge overlooking the Wilds, giving him and Darok a wide view of the stretch that the strike team would have to traverse to reach the Sith Academy.

Theron glanced over to another projection on the table, mapping out the approximate position of Wave Two. They were about to come out of hyperspace. He keyed his comm to the frequency he’d set for his communications with Highwind. It was showtime.

“—I’m aware how this could be difficult.” The transmission cut in in the middle of the Highwind’s sentence. Her voice was pitched low, probably in an attempt to keep her conversation quiet. “If you want to stay here, I understand.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Another female voice volleyed back. “I’m not letting you go into that place alone.”

“Kira,” Highwind’s concerned tone lightened with a trace of amusement, “how can I be alone with the rest of our crew and these soldiers?”

Ah, Kira Carsen. Jedi Knight and Highwind’s former Padawan and longtime partner. Her name had threaded through the dossier nearly as much as her master’s. Theron had found it a little odd that she was still part of the Defender’s crew this many years after her knighting, but he supposed that saving the galaxy from annihilation on a semi-regular basis formed tight bonds.

“You know what I mean,” Kira continued. “This place… it’s worse than Dromund Kaas. You can feel the Dark Side in every step you take here.”

“We’ll be fine,” Highwind assured her companion. “After all, I have everyone here, as well as eyes and ears on Carrick Station to guide me through.”

“How reassuring.”

“I’ve been told that they have a map.”

“Oh good, a map. That will keep a Sith from stabbing you in the back with a lightsaber.”

Despite himself, Theron found himself having to purse his lips together to keep from smirking. Apparently this Kira had a bit of a mouth on her. This was probably a good moment for him to speak up, to keep from listening in on what was becoming clear had been meant to be a private conversation, but he was curious to see where this was going.

“I highly doubt anyone will get that close,” came the serene reply, and Theron was pretty sure he heard a snort on the other end of the line.

“That’s some map you’ve got there.”

“I would think you’d know the difference between directions and the Force at this point, Kira.”

“Oh, so you’re not going to use the Force to magically guide you to the Dark Council chambers? Which, lovely vacation spot by the way, Boss. You should always plan our team building exercises. You keep things so exciting.”

“ _I_ didn’t plan this particular excursion,” the reply came out only the slightest edge of consternation. “You can thank the military and SIS for this trip.”

“Oh, the SIS, they always take us to the most fun places. Think we’ll have to fight off any Rakata-tech zombies this time?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Well, what kind of briefing doesn’t mention zombies?”

“Perhaps I should check, if it’s _that_ important.” If Theron’s ears didn’t deceive him, he thought he heard the slightest trace of impatience lacing through that deceptively serene tone. There was a soft beep in his ear as she attempted to establish connection on her side. “Theron, are you there?”

“Yes,” he said, miraculously managing to keep his tone neutral.

“Do you think we’ll encounter any zombies during our stay here?”

“No, I think you’ll be fine,” he said, pursing his lips together to keep from laughing. “You’ll probably just have to deal with an endless horde of angry Sith. No zombies though.”

“I’m sure everyone will rest easier knowing that.”

Darok shot him a look. “I hope you’re taking this seriously, Agent Shan.”

“Bite me,” was what Theron almost said. Instead he just shot the colonel the most sarcasticly polite smile he could muster. “I’m always serious, Darok.”

The colonel narrowed his eyes, face set in a deep frown. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was going to say something, before he turned back to the holodisplay of Korriban.

“I apologize if I caused you any problems,” Highwind said. Her tone was so placid, he honestly couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said smoothly, watching as the ship exited hyperspace, and made for a fast and rough landing on the planet’s surface.

“Who’s Theron?” Kira asked.

The ship shuddered and came to a hard stop on the ground, the echoes of the rough landing sounding over the earpiece. He would have turned the volume on his side down, but he was waiting to hear if the reply contained any mention of the Grand Master, or if Highwind had more discretion than that.

“He’s with the SIS.”

“Oh, really? Is he sure about the zombie thing, because Fauler conveniently left that out on our grand adventure on Tatooine too.”

This time he did hear an exhalation of breath, and it was definitely on the annoyed side. “Have I mentioned that you can stay on the shuttle if you want to?”

On the holocam feed, Highwind’s small figure emerged from the pod, the desert breeze kicking up her cape into the face of the man behind her. He batted it away as she continued to survey the area.

“Hey, gorgeous, you ever think about dressing for the climate?” Ah, that must have been Kimble, the medic.

“I see nothing wrong with the way I’m dressed, Doc,” she said primly, “especially considering what we’re up against.”

“Yeah, about that… are you _really_ serious? Wasn’t that fun trip on Dromund Kaas enough?”

“I’m not forcing anyone to come along. You can all stay on the shuttle if you prefer.”

“Please tell me she’s joking.” Kimble—or rather Doc apparently—seemed to be directing that comment to the rest of the crew emerging from the shuttle.

“Apparently not,” Kira’s voice drifted back.

“You all talk too much.” The imposing figure of a Pureblood Sith strode out from the shuttle, not seeming to notice that Doc had to dodge out of the way. “If you did not wish to come you should have not left Carrick Station.”

“Thank you, Scourge,” Highwind said airily.

“You’re taking _his_ side?”

“No,” her tone sounded a little strained, “but _I_ was the one who agreed to this mission in the middle of our rest time. It’s understandable if you’d rather relax rather than—”

“You are impossible,” Doc’s voice sounded aggrieved. “Please back me up on this, Kira.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.”

“Master Jedi, if we leave these two here we should achieve a 3.07% increase in efficiency by lack of complaining.”

“No one asked you, Rusk!”

“Welcome to Korriban,” Theron said loudly, feeling a slight thrill of satisfaction when he saw Highwind jump ever so slightly on the holocam feed. “Enjoying the view?”

“Ready to get started,” she said, and he was pretty sure by the way she looked at each member of her crew that she was giving them some sort of silent rebuke. “What’s the situation?”

“Well,” he said casually, “Wave One managed to soften the Imps up some, but there’s still a lot of ground to cover.”

“How far is the Sith Academy?”

“See that big structure off in the distance?”

“You mean the giant pyramid dominating the horizon—yes. It’s a bit hard to miss.”

“That’s where you’re headed. Just… a bit of a walk to get there. You’ll have to cross the Wilds before you enter the Valley of the Dark Lords. And probably a few of said dark lords on the way.”

Theron heard an intake of breath as Kira stepped in closer to her Master. “Those are some unhappy Sith. This isn’t going to be easy.”

“No,” Highwind agreed quietly, “but that hasn’t stopped us before.”

“Good luck,” Theron intoned. “I’ll be in touch.”

He muted his mic, and toned down the volume on her feed so that he could monitor the chatter on this end a little better. Darok watched as Highwind, her crew, as well as their backup squad began to make their way down the cliffside towards the long expanse separating them from the Academy.

The static view from the holocam wasn’t perfect, but it was the best they could do until the strike team could reach a data node and Theron could get some hooks into the Academy’s systems. Another wave of fighters raced overhead, dropping another round of bombs that kicked up debris and so much dirt into the air the visual was obscured for several long seconds. He heard the hiss of a lightsaber being activated over his auditory feed, and turned it down as it quickly descended into a deafening cacophony as the strike team engaged with resistance on the ground.

The dust began to clear on their visual feed, revealing the battle raging in the valley below. Their teams were hardly distinguishable specks from the distance, and from the hazy image it was almost impossible to tell their people apart from the enemy. Except for one caped figure, whirling around faster than humanly possible.

She leapt to and fro, twin violet blades twirling almost as if she were in a dance. She cut through the swathes of enemies as if she were parting water, cape whipping behind her. The rest of her team moved around her in sync, filling in the gaps in each other’s defenses like it had been choreographed beforehand. They quickly gained ground, the commanders of the Imperial ground resistance falling one-by-one. It was almost mesmerizing in its own way.

He didn’t realize he’d been watching quite so intently, or quite so long, until he heard Darok mutter next to him. “You ever seen anything like that?”

Theron had seen Jedi fight, he himself had gone toe-to-toe with members of the Dark Council and lived to tell the tale. But even from a distance, he could tell that what they were witnessing was in a class all of its own. “No.”

“There’s more to that one than first glance.”

For probably the first time since they met, Darok and Theron could agree wholeheartedly on something.

The strike team passed out of view as they ducked through a canyon, and Theron resumed monitoring their progress from one of the GPS on the sketchy Korriban map. A quick visual report from one of Darok’s pilots confirmed more resistance ahead that they were going to have to cut through. Without a visual to back them up, Darok and Theron were both left to monitoring their other various feeds.

He paced the room, listening to the distant echoes of blaster fire and lightsabers clashing over the comm. There was the occasional bit of chatter from her team that drifted through, but Highwind remained quiet other than directing the way or a quick order sent to her crew or Darok’s men that were trailing behind in the path they were forging.

Theron kept an eye on the chrono, the ever-present countdown to their closing window lurking in the back of his mind. They were making good progress, honestly, faster than he had expected. Although, he wasn’t sure exactly what he had been expecting from all of this, but after witnessing the impressive display of combat skills earlier, it hadn’t been that.

The distinctive hum of her lightsaber disappeared with a swish as she deactivated it, and for a moment, there was almost silence on the other end. The lack of noise itself was almost deafening in its own way. Then there was something soft, like a voice in the distance. Next to him he saw Darok’s normal stony expression descend into a frown, and he dialed up the volume on his feed to listen in.

“We need to keep moving—”

“Your armor—you’re with the Republic aren’t you? Please, you must help us!”

The desperate cry barely registered over the sound of boots crunching on the rocky gravel. It was hard to believe that such a small woman could make so much noise as she was walking.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? That’s not why we’re here.” It was the voice of one of Darok’s men, the lieutenant. “We’re not here to hurt you, I promise. Just… try to keep your heads down, all right?”

The heavy footfalls stopped, and he heard Highwind speak. Although it wasn’t with the quiet exasperation she had used with her crew earlier, but the same tone that she had used when she was sizing up Darok earlier. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Darok muttered, clearly irritated with the delay. “Why have you stopped, Bickell?”

“Got a whole mess of slaves here.” The conflict in the lieutenant’s tone was audible even through the earpiece. “As much as I wish we could do something for them, we _can’t_. There’s no time.”

“There’s _always_ time,” Highwind said without hesitation, conviction ringing clear in her tone.

“But this op is strictly smash-and-grab. We could risk the whole mission if we pull them out!”

“We can’t leave them behind, Lieutenant.”

“But our orders—”

“Are to secure my retreat, which you have done admirably.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Do whatever it takes—just get them out of here.”

“Shan,” Darok practically snarled, “get a handle on your Jedi! _Now_.”

Theron glowered at the taller man, for a few long moments thinking of a few ways to knock a little air out of the windbag standing next to him. He managed to wrangle his irritation, as he always did, and shove it deep down as he unmuted his mic.

“Hey there,” he said, the annoyance still simmering just beneath the surface, and possibly leaking into his tone.

“Theron,” she returned, “what’s going on?”

“I was about to ask the same thing. You do remember that this is an extraction mission, not a rescue operation, don’t you?”

“It can be _both_.”

“And if you send Bickell and the others back, who’s going to secure your retreat?”

“I’ll figure something out,” she said confidently.

He pressed his lips into a thin line as Darok let out a loud snort. Apparently Bickell’s mic was picking up her reply well enough for him to hear. He shut his eyes briefly, gathering the fraying threads of his patience together.

“No one deserves this, Theron,” she said. Although her mic still picked up her voice clearly, from softness in her tone, she had dropped it as if she was trying to talk to just him. “You know how the Empire treats slaves— _especially_ the Sith. Tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing if you were here.”

He wanted to tell her just that, and get her to focus back on the entire point of this mission, on the larger picture. Except that would be a bit hypocritical, considering that he’d nearly gotten his entire career sidelined after accidentally trashing an SIS operation on Nar Shadaa a few years back as he’d refused to let several soldiers be sold into slavery. It had all worked out in the end, but that was beside the point.

“You don’t know me,” he said tersely.

“Tell her that we don’t have time to be rescuing every slave on Korriban,” Darok spat.

Before Theron could even open his mouth to relay the message, her voice filled his ear again, backed with that same steely resolve he was starting to recognize. “I don’t particularly care for the Colonel’s tone.”

Apparently Theron’s mic was more sensitive than he gave it credit for. Perhaps it was possible to tweak equipment a little _too_ well.

“Uh oh,” Doc’s voice drifted through the earpiece, “she’s got that look in her eye.”

“Something tells me I’m glad I’m not hearing what’s going on back on Carrick Station,” Kira agreed.

“You know we can’t spare the men,” Theron finally said.

“Fine.” Her Jedi calm didn’t break, but he could hear the repressed emotion beginning leak into her voice. “We’ll split the difference. My crew will lead them back.”

“Yeah, we’ll—wait, come again?” That was Doc.

“Doc and Rusk will escort them back to the shuttle safely. They’re fully capable.”

“You know it is foolish to split our forces this way, Jedi. Especially over slaves.” The deep tone of Lord Scourge picked up. “There are still many Sith crawling in this valley.”

“These people need our help, Scourge.”

“One day you are going to get us all killed with your pointless compassion.”

“Today will not be that day for you, thankfully, since you’ll be helping them. In case they encounter any of those Sith that you mentioned.”

There was a long silence on the other end, and Theron really wished he had a visual to see exactly what was going down, but even he could feel the tension crackling over the distance. He crossed his arms, and was contemplating breaking the silence when he finally heard a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Doc’s voice dropped into Highwind’s, and therefore Theron’s ear, barely a whisper, “do you really think this is wise? Scourge is likely to spear one of them with his lightsaber if they annoy him.”

“That’s why I’m sending you,” she whispered back, “I know you’ll take care of them.”

“I’m always the dashing hero.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

“Watch your back in there,” Doc said, the trailing quality of his voice indicating that he was moving away.

“That’s what _I’m_ here for,” Kira called back.

“This distraction has wasted enough of our time.” Darok didn’t exactly snarl, but there was an unrestrained annoyance coloring his tone. “Is she on the way to the Academy, or has she forgotten the reason they’re there?”

“If Colonel Darok wishes to board a shuttle to Korriban and take over this mission personally, he is welcome to,” Highwind said airily. “Otherwise I would suggest that he calm down before he gives himself a stroke.”

Theron felt his lips twitch, and managed to cover the grin with his hand before the burly man next to him saw. It took him an extra moment to smother his mirth completely, and more diplomatically than he ever thought possibly he told Darok, “She’s headed that way now.”

That earned a tight nod before the colonel turned back to his battle plans on the holotable. Theron continued to pace, the only thing he could do to expend his nervous energy. Usually in a situation like this he’d be out there doing his part, not playing games of holophone between Jedi and the military. Stars, he missed field work.

“Now, Theron, that’s not what I said.” If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that he heard a faint trace of amusement.

He wandered over to the section of the holotable that had the reconstructed plans leading to the temple. He pitched his voice low as he replied, not really wanting Darok to overhear. “I’m trying out some of that famous Jedi diplomacy.”

“There’s a difference between diplomacy and lying.”

“It’s diplomacy if you’re headed that way,” he tossed back. “So don’t make a liar out of me now.”

He was pretty sure he was imagining the sound of a resigned sigh over his earpiece. “Diplomacy it is.”

“Good.”

Theron enlarged the holographic view of the map, studying the path they would have to weave before even reaching the Academy’s front doors. They still had a long way to go, the numbers on their strike team had just been halved by the impromptu rescue mission, and their window to escape was shrinking by the minute. Hopefully Darok had been right in his assessment earlier and there was more to this Jedi than met the eye. Theron had a feeling she was going to need more than just some very fancy lightsaber skills before all of this was said and done.


	6. The Navigator

“You zigged when you should have zagged.”

“Excuse me?”

“Unless you’re wanting to take a stroll through the Tomb of Naga Sadow, you may want to backtrack a little.”

There was a snort of frustration picked up over the mic, but the dot on the fuzzy projection of Korriban halted its progress, and after a few moments, started to retrace its steps.

“I’m glad you have a map,” Highwind said, but he couldn’t tell if the slight trace of irritation in her tone was directed at him or herself. It didn’t really matter in the long run, just as long as she stayed on track.

“At least someone does.” Kira’s dark mutterings were probably meant to be under her breath, but the overtuned mic still picked them up. “With all the rubble it’s easy to get turned around here.”

“The first wave may have been a bit… overzealous,” her partner agreed.

Theron thought about pointing out that the first wave of the operation had been completely for her benefit, but bit down on his tongue before the comment formed completely. He needed to keep her focused on the task at hand, and that was easier if she didn’t get irritated with him chiding her over the comm. Half a galaxy away, it wasn’t as if he could march up to her and physically set her back in the right direction, and the incident with the slave pens had already strained Darok’s patience dangerously thin. The taller man was still stalking back and forth, and in between coordinating the rest of the teams on the ground and in the air, was flashing both Theron and his holographic map a thoroughly displeased glare.

“So, does Mapboy have any other helpful tips? Maybe a nice food stall to pick up a quick bite before we go face down the most dangerous Sith in the Galaxy?”

“Kira.” Highwind’s recrimination sounded almost like an exasperated older sibling who was tired of lecturing her younger sister, but still did it anyway out of habit.

“Mapboy?” Theron echoed. “Is that all I am?”

“You are more than a map, Theron,” Highland was quick to reassure him, almost as if she didn’t pick up his undercurrent of sarcasm.

“Yeah, you’re a voice in her ear too.”

“ _Kira_.”

“What? I’m only getting half of this conversation, I have to amuse myself somehow.”

“Perhaps you should remain focused on the mission.”

There was a quiet series of beeps and trills barely picked up by the microphone.

“ _See_. Teeseven agrees with me.”

“I am fairly certain he was confirming we were heading in the right direction.”

“You are,” Theron piped in, “just take a right and it should be straight ahead.”

“A… right? Are you certain?”

“Yes. Why?”

The hum of a lightsaber being activated nearly drowned out Kira’s exclamation of: “Exactly _when_ did the K’lor’slug population explode into an infestation?”

“Thank you for the directions, Theron.” Another hiss of lightsabers sizzled over the comm. “But I’m afraid I need to cut our conversation short.”

“You’re so polite. Go take care of your bug problem.”

“There’s always time for _diplomacy_. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

His eyebrow arched of its own accord, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had just been on the receiving end of a very, _very_ subtle dig. He shook his head, trying to ignore his rising curiosity about his asset and focus back on the job at hand. Once the package was secured and safely in SIS’s hands and the mission complete, his role as her handler would be done. Unless Jace decided to inelegantly smash through Dromund Kass (and Theron wasn’t sure he could put it past the Supreme Commander completely), there wasn’t going to be much need for him to make smalltalk with the heaviest hitter in the galaxy for the foreseeable future. She was a bit too… flashy for the shadows that Theron preferred to lurk in.

The apparent “horde” of K’lor’slugs seemed to not be that much of a match for the two Jedi and their little astromech, but the sounds of lightsabers crashing and blaster fire continued over his audio feed. The closer they got to the Academy, the heavier the opposition it seemed. The deep furrow in Darok’s brow seemed to ease the closer Theron’s team got to their objective, but there was a larger issue at hand. His map got even sketchier once they reached the interior of the Academy, and unless he was able to get eyes in there, the strike team would be wandering around blind.

His fingers flew across the keys, mind already processing a workaround. If that little T7 unit was as good at slicing as his file seemed to indicate, there might be an opportunity for Theron to get some eyes inside — as well as extract a little something extra for his old pals in the Analytics division to sink their teeth into. Those data nerds would just _love_ the chance to pick apart every piece of the Academy that they could. He just needed to make a few programming adjustments to prep the communication relays for the data stream. He listened with half an ear, keeping one eye on his programming and the other on the dot representing the strike team’s progress towards the Academy.

The cacophony of the seemingly endless series of encounters faded, and the sudden silence was a bit eerie. The mic picked up the sound of footfalls echoing through what was a large cavernous room. From the position of the dot on his holomap, apparently they had finally arrived at the entrance to the Academy. Jace and the Highwind Fanclub Division of the SIS had been right about one thing — this woman seemed to be able to fight as if she was an entire army.

“Going to be a lot more close quarters combat in here.” The mic picked up Kira’s soft mutterings. “Even before those bombings this place was always a death trap.”

“It will be okay, we just have to stick together,” the older Jedi assured her. “Do you know which way we should head?”

Theron was about to pipe in about his need for an access point, when the voice on the other end of the line cut him off. “Not really. Things look different at this height.”

Theron frowned, wondering what the hell that meant, but the conversation on the other end continued, oblivious to the third party listening in.

“I’m going to guess we follow the highest concentration of Sith standing between us and something else, and just go that way.”

“Do you think they were able to evacuate the students when the bombings began?”

“I don’t know,” there was some reluctance coloring the younger Jedi’s tone, “do you really think that’s a priority?”

“If this were Tython being attacked, the Masters’ first instinct would be to try and protect the initiates and padawans. The highest concentration of Jedi would be defending the students.”

“The Sith aren’t Jedi, and Korriban _isn’t_ Tython.” There was an undercurrent of steely fury to Kira’s tone that was a bit of a surprise to hear her taking with her partner. “It has a way of corrupting people. Nothing good ever came from this place.”

“That’s not true.” Highwind’s reply was just as firm, but instead of fury it was laced with affection.

“Name _one_ thing.”

“You.”

“I… _Master_ …”

The rest of their conversation was drowned out by the sudden rushing in Theron’s ears, as he suddenly put the pieces of the conversation together, and had to physically bite down on his tongue to keep from cursing aloud. Of _course_ the Jedi Order had recruited from within Korriban’s walls, they preached about forgiveness and redemption all the damn time. If they had been a bit more open about their personnel records, perhaps the SIS could have gleaned valuable intel from the converts, instead of having to scrap pieces together from everything else.

Had Theron known that a member of the strike team had first-hand knowledge, even outdated knowledge, it would have been something he could have leveraged. He snorted an angry breath, wondering what other key pieces of intel the close mouthed Jedi were keeping under wraps.

He keyed his mic, probably a little more forcefully than necessary, and let out a long breath before speaking in the most even voice possible. “Looks like you’ve made it to the Academy.”

“We have.” There was a brief hesitation. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes,” he said, a little more terse than he cared for, “I don’t have eyes in there. You’ll be walking around blind.”

“That might be a problem. It’s rather large in here, how are we looking on time?”

Theron glanced at the chronometer and grimaced. “We’ll be cutting it close. Do you see anything that looks like a data or security terminal?”

There was the sound of shuffling, before her voice filled the line again. “Yes, I think we can make something work. Why?”

“If you lend me your astromech’s slicing skills for a few minutes, between the two of us we can probably slice into the mainframe. Piggyback the data off your comm signal and I should be able to get a layout of the whole place. Maybe a little more, depending.”

“You can do that?” She actually sounded impressed.

“You’d be be surprised what I can do with a few loose security protocols and enough free time.”

“See, I knew you were more than just a man with a map.”

He didn’t know what to make of the light teasing tone, and instead focused on his fingers flying across the keyboard, finishing the final line of programming. “To be fair, I’m just getting a new map.”

“Is that _all_ you’ll be doing with this uplink?”

Sharp one, that Jedi. “My primary concern is getting you to the Dark Council chambers. Any extra data I find on my way there, well, that’s just a side benefit.”

“I admire your dedication to your profession.”

Now _that_ he couldn’t tell if it was meant as a jest or not. There was only so much subtext one could determine without facial cues, especially if the other party tended to be a little deadpan in their responses.

He was making some final adjustments to the relay when a message pinged from the far end. The HUD in his left eye implant superimposed a text read out of the message, and his lip curled ever so slightly into a smirk.

_Modifications to Jedi comm unit = unauthorized use of Republic equipment // Violation of Regulation C1726 + Galactic Communication Act SR.7628_

Theron’s fingers flew across the board as the tapped out a quick response. _T7-01 I presume. You going to tattle on me?_

The response was immediate and succinct. _T7 = here to help // You = help?_

_That’s the plan. I’ve got a fun little surprise for the Academy’s security system if you can get me a connection._

_T7 = slicing access point now //Imperial security algorithm = predictable; layers deep // Sith Academy = closed network_

Theron nodded absently, even though the little astromech couldn’t see. He’d expected that, but luckily his unauthorized modifications would be a temporary patch for that. With a few more keystrokes, his last minute programming was being sent half a galaxy away.

_Got a code packet incoming, might make that whole place a little more accommodating for digital visitors._

_Code packet = virus // T7 = unfamiliar with program// Safe for Republic network?_

_Code is brand new — but targets the closed system, two-way data transfer will be safe. Don’t worry, I’m not going to scramble the comm systems and leave you guys running around there blind._

Theron waited, but he didn’t see an affirmation via text whether the astromech had uploaded the spike into the access point. Not for the first time that day he wished that he was physically there. It was easier to just do things himself rather than trying to convince various personalities to follow his lead. Asking for forgiveness was generally easier than asking for permission — although he probably needed work on that whole apologizing part of that tactic. But usually his results negated much of the need for an apology.

His fingers remained poised over the keyboard, ready to send a ping on the status when a rush of data started flowing across every available port. A smirk threatened to form as the entire Sith Academy’s network was laid out before him. It was possible he was one of the first Republic agents to actually see all of this (and live long enough to tell the tale).

_Good job. Thanks, T7._

_Theron = talented slicer // unorthodox; talented_

_Thanks. I think. I should have what I need now to get you guys the rest of the way. Just need to sort through it._

_Theron = need T7 here?_

_No, you guys should stay together. As long as I’ve got a connection to the comm we should be good._

It was easy to see why Highwind was so fond of the little astromech, willing to stay behind even in a place crawling with Sith that wouldn’t hesitate to hack him in two. Then again, this was the same droid that supposedly had helped take out the Sith Emperor with the Jedi in question. Teeseven might very well have been capable of taking them on.

Theron focused back on the task at hand. There was too much intel to completely sort through at the moment so he diverted the majority of it to a data silo that could be safely mined once completely disconnected from the Republic grid. For now he only needed the facility’s blueprints and way to access the security feeds, even if there was a part of him wanting to rub his hands together greedily at the possibilities of what he now had in hand. Whatever was locked behind the Dark Council’s doors was a far more valuable prize — but just because it wasn’t the motherlode didn’t mean valuable intel still couldn’t be gleaned from what he had just acquired.

There was only so much that the hijacked comm channel could handle though, so once he found what he was looking for, he stopped the upload so he didn’t overload his connection. No need to be greedy, they were already lightyears ahead of where they had been in terms of intel now as opposed to when the day started.

He flung the wireframe projection of the Academy’s layout on the holotable on top of the little dot representing Highwind’s strike team. It filled him with no small amount of glee as Darok’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he got his first look at the layout of the Sith stronghold. It was an unseen deviation in his plan, but as his initial shock faded to grim satisfaction it was apparent that it wasn’t an unwelcome one.

The glitchy visual feed from some of the still functioning security cameras Theron kept limited to the HUD for now. The last thing he needed was Darok breathing down his neck as the strike team tried to navigate what was clearly a crumbled mess. The state of destruction inside of the Academy was quite extensive, as bombings and their aftershocks had done a number on the place. He pivoted around the camera he had hijacked in the foyer, ignoring the way the twisted faces carved into the giant obelisk taking up the center of the room sent a shiver down his spine. Perhaps it wasn’t all bad being stuck on Carrick Station.

Deciding to cut out eavesdroppers, he activated the subvocal portion of his comlink implant. “So, is the Sith’s new decorating scheme courtesy of Darok’s overzealous bombings, or did you get in on the renovations as well?”

On his HUD he saw Highwind’s head head swivel around, taking in the room. Even with the distance of the camera he could see her frown. “You can see us?”

“Part of that ‘little more’ I mentioned earlier.”

“The voice in your ear is being creepy, Boss.”

He saw Highwind shoot the younger knight a look, but didn’t respond to Kira verbally. “I hope this means you have a map.”

“Of sorts. From what I can see here, the Dark Council chambers are on the upper levels. There’s an elevator on the second floor that you’ll have to take to get there.”

“I am hearing some hesitation in that statement.”

Theron let out a sigh, minding to keep it quieter than he truly felt. Mostly so he didn’t have to involve Darok in this conversation.

“Apparently the access codes for the elevator aren’t stored on the Academy’s main network.”

“Main network?”

“Paranoid Sith. Apparently they’d rather have several closed networks rather than have everything all together. It’s almost like they expected to be invaded.”

“Fancy that,” Highwind remarked dryly.

“Teeseven and I _might_ be able to slice the elevator manually if we work together, but that’s going to take a while.”

“That sounds like a big ‘might’,” she returned. “Is there time for you two to try that?”

Theron glanced at the countdown, pressing his lips together. “We can try, but there’s no guarantee we’ll crack it before your return window closes. Pretty sure that encryption is going to be pretty complicated. Have I mentioned the Sith are paranoid?”

“Is there any other way to get access to that elevator?”

“Are you talking about the elevator to the Dark Council chambers?” Kira piped in. “If it’s anything like it used to be, the high level instructors always had access codes. The Sith don’t change their game plan much if everything is working.”

“It’s worth a try. Theron, can you find them?”

“Hold on,” he muttered, cycling through the various security feeds of the destroyed rooms.

Almost all of them were empty. Having never stepped foot in the building before, it was hard to say how occupied everything usually was, but it appeared that the younger students and acolytes might have been evacuated. That would probably make his very perplexing knight on the other end of the line somewhat happier. There were still Sith crawling through the hallways, clearly defending something at the far end. That something turned out to be another Sith, whose importance was marked by the fine robes and markings indicating their high status. A quick check on other hallways confirmed a few more individuals.

“Found them.” He frowned at the map, trying to calculate the best path to take the team through. “First one’s down that hall on your right — if you can get past all of their faithful guards first.”

“We will manage.”

That was starting to sound less and less like overconfidence and more a statement of fact. He sat back, monitoring their progress through the map and available security feeds. Her fighting style changed to accommodate the closed quarters, and the acrobatic flips and twirls incorporated the walls and rubble. The finer details of the lightsaber work was lost to the fuzzy, unstable connection, but even with that it still looked more like some frenetic dance.

By the time they had the codes in hand and stood in front of the elevator, it was clear that even the Jedi super endurance was getting a test today if the sheen of sweat he could make out on the security cameras were any indication.

“I don’t really have much on the upper-level defenses,” he said quietly, this time out loud as Darok’s impatience was starting to show again. “You can try to find an access point once you’re up there—but I’ve got a feeling you’re going to face some heavy opposition.”

“Will your modifications to the comm allow you to talk to me up there?”

He glanced at the weak signal stretched to the limits, and the heavy shielding indicated by the blueprint. When the Sith wanted to protect their communications, not even his best slicing tricks could get him in remotely. His experience infiltrating the Orbital Defense Command Center on Ziost proved that.

“It’s unlikely.”

This was the worst part of the op, the one thing that he couldn’t account for. Despite Darok’s planning, Theron’s intel, and his entire bag of slicer tricks, once she stepped through that door it was all out of his hands. He shifted his weight and crossed his arms, trying not to glare at the giant hole in the map that represented the Dark Council chambers.

“It will be all right,” she said quietly, and it took him a moment to realize she was talking to him. “You have gotten us this far — the Force will take us the rest of the way.”

He almost snorted aloud, but caught himself at the last moment. Whatever beliefs or mental exercises she needed to lean on were fine, especially if that’s what helped her accomplish the mission. It wasn’t his place to comment on that, especially when he needed her to stay focused on the end goal.

“Good luck,” he said instead.

He watched on the security feed as they stepped inside of the elevator until the doors closed and they disappeared from his view completely. He glanced back up at the map on the holotable, where the dot representing the strike team started to move up before suddenly winking out completely as they hit the shielded area.

“They’re in,” he said to Darok, and for once, the colonel was silent.

All that was left now was the waiting — and hoping that the little Jedi lived up to her larger-than-life reputation.


	7. Misgivings

Time dragged by as they watched the HUD overview on the holotable, waiting for some indication of the mission’s failure or success. There was an occasional affirmative as Darok’s backup squad swept through and finished securing the Academy.

“I had my doubts at first,” Darok rumbled, “but you sure can pick them, Shan. Highwind and her team practically razed the place by themselves.”

It was a bit of an overstatement, but correcting the colonel at this point would just likely turn into a drawn out discussion. Theron didn’t have the time nor patience for that.

“Malcom asked for the best.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, but his eyes were still trained on the security feeds and the map of the Academy.

He had stopped checking the chrono since the signal from his strike team had winked out as the constant countdown was starting to drive him up the wall. The holotable was now filled with several different feeds from the armor cams of Darok’s men as they secured the exfiltration path. The extra relays they had set up along the way had strengthened the comm signal, but it still wasn’t enough to breach the shielded upper levels. Theron had tried poking around the system some more, just in case he had missed any backdoor to the security system of the Dark Council. Unfortunately that network was still completely separate. It hadn’t miraculously made it’s appearance and unless Highwind and her team stopped what they were doing to try and take down the shielding preventing communications, he was just going to have to be patient. Which was something he was entirely capable of — when time allowed.

That was a resource they definitely were lacking at the moment.

A cluster of dots representing the backup team approached the Academy’s foyer. On the HUD in his optical implant, Theron could see a tall Jedi leading the way. Commander Jensyn’s bearing had more in common with the the SpecOps group he’d been embedded with than that of the softer spoken Jedi Master that had yet to make her reappearance. Jensyn stalked through the halls of the Sith Academy aggressively, wide shoulders tense and ready for combat. Theron hadn’t tapped into their comm frequency, but the armor cam feed occasionally showed him giving out a terse set of orders to the men trailing behind him. There was no time wasted as they secured the area, and moved on to the elevator leading to the upper chambers.

When that cluster of dots disappeared behind the shielding, the tension radiating off of Darok seemed to increase tenfold. Not that Theron was wholly unsympathetic. The lack of feedback from his own team was about to send him up the walls, but all the same he busied himself with fiddling with the comm protocols in an effort to avoid attracting any undue attention. If something like this came up again, maybe he’d be able to find a way to get on the actual extraction team. Dodging blaster fire was preferable to dodging SpecOps’ tempers.

Darok glanced at the chronometer for the tenth time, deep set frown threatening to take up permanent residence there. Theron himself was so absorbed in his busy work with the comms that he almost missed the reappearance of a dot on the holomap. The fuzzy security feed of the elevator treated him to the image of three figures emerging from behind the closed doors. Highwind’s cape billowed behind her as she took large strides down the crumbled stairway, Teeseven and Kira trailing behind closely. The tension drained out of Theron and he keyed his comm, not bothering to hide his relief.

“You like to cut it close, don’t you?” he asked.

“Tell Colonel Darok I have the item,” she replied tersely, “and we are heading back to the landing site now.”

“He’ll be thrilled.” Theron glanced over to see that the man’s deep set frown had given way to a very satisfied, self-congratulatory smile. “Good job, Master Jedi.”

She gave him a small noise of acknowledgement, but seemed more set on leaving the Academy as fast as possible. Not that she shouldn’t have been, but the terse silence was a stark contrast from the amicable banter from before. He keyed up the security feed and enhanced it to get a better look at his operative. Her brows were drawn together in a deep frown, lips pressing together to form a tight line. Theron felt the first stirrings of unease wind through his gut.

He thought about asking if there was a problem, but before he could even open his channel, he heard her quiet voice speak up.

“Did you recruit everyone on this mission, Theron?”

He frowned, wondering exactly where this was coming from. With a quick glance at Darok, he keyed in the subvocal mic and surreptitiously moved out of the other man’s line of sight. “No, I didn’t. Darok brought most of his own people in.”

“Including Jensyn?”

“Yes.” That uneasy feeling that had plagued him from the start of this whole thing began to creep back up. “Why are you asking?”

“I had just finished subduing the Sith who had been guarding the inner chambers when Jensyn and his men arrived. He began talking about a prophecy—”

The line went quiet again, and he was about to ask why when he noticed that her position on the map passed by an outcropping of several of the men securing the exit route. She didn’t speak again until she had reached another open stretch of the path. “Jensyn _executed_ him. Claimed it was self defense.”

“Are you sure?”

“I know what I saw. He could barely stand, he was no threat.”

“He was a member of the Dark Council. You can’t expect—”

“That is _not_ the Jedi way!”

The ferocity in that statement took him aback for a moment. “We can bring him up in an inquiry, make him answer for it.”

“This doesn’t _feel_ right, Theron. None of this does.” The line went quiet for another long stretch as she passed by another contingent of SpecOps soldiers. “I’m starting to think that we shouldn’thave come here.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to get cold feet at this point?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Frustration and weariness were starting to seep into her tone.

“Then what did you mean?”

“I’m just getting the feeling that I’m not seeing something. Like we haven’t been given the complete picture.”

“I gave as accurate a picture as I could. _Especially_ considering you had someone with inside knowledge of the Academy on your team and didn’t think to mention it.”

“I wasn’t accusing you. And it is not my place to mention others’ pasts, especially ones they are trying to put behind. If you are suggesting that would somehow compromise—“

“I’m not,” he cut her of curtly. “Just sympathizing that it’s hard to do your job when you don’t have all the facts.”

“I was not trying to deceive you.” A thread of contrition wound its way through the frustration and weariness in her tone. “I hope you understand that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “All worked out in the end, right?”

“Are you sure about that?”

Highwind came into visual range on the camera feed from the landing zone, her astromech and fellow Jedi struggling to keep up with her quick pace. While she still carried her head high as she swept past the SpecOps forces, he could see from the droop in her shoulders that fatigue from the near constant battles must have taken their toll. Theron was unable to completely ignore the twinge of guilt at her wearied state.

“What you did today wasn’t easy, but it was good work,” he added. “It’s a long flight back to Carrick Station. Maybe you can get some rest. You’ve earned some.”

“I am not sure I agree completely,” she said quietly, “but perhaps I will take the opportunity to meditate. On many things.”

“And that offer of a drink stands, if you’re still interested.”

“I will consider it.” A bit of warmth chased away some of the weariness in her tone. “Thank you.”

His reply was lost as a large contingent of people swept from the shuttle and nearly overwhelmed the tired Jedi. It took him a moment to realize that they were the slaves from earlier as their profuse thanks filled the comm line almost to the point of cacophony. Theron could barely make out her assurances of finding everyone a home in the Republic, but even so he could hear the tired smile in her voice. It was only the intervention of Doc that managed to break through the over enthusiastic and grateful crowd.

Theron logged off the comm as the shuttle entered hyperspace, the excited din of chatter on the shuttle making it too hard to discern anything of value. If Highwind was able to get any meditation in with all of that racket, he would be impressed.

“The package is secure and on its way back to Carrick Station.”

“Excellent.” The satisfied smile that spread across Darok’s face had no trace of the colonel’s characteristic intensity or grimness. “Very good work, Shan.”

Something about that sharp smile set Theron’s nerves on edge. He was grateful they were almost done. The sooner this assignment was over, the better.


	8. Reprisal

The strike team’s flight back from Korriban was just long enough to take a sizable break and get some rest. Theron had _meant_ to leave the operations room that Darok had commandeered for their mission. Maybe stretch his legs and unwind a bit, but he’d gotten distracted with sorting through the data he’d absconded from the Sith Academy. He wasn’t really doing more than giving it a cursory look, just double and triple checking to make sure there were no nasty surprises in the code before he took any of it out of quarantine. It may have been paranoid to think that Sith would try and set a digital booby trap in their closed system — but better safe than sorry.

Darok had spent a majority of the time pacing, coordinating between the team left on Korriban and checking on the status of the package as it zipped its way across the galaxy. Theron had seemingly become invisible to him at this point, and hardly a word had passed between them since the strike team had entered hyperspace. It was just as well, since Theron preferred getting lost in the endless flow of data rather than having to listen to the strident tones of the colonel.

He hadn’t even really noticed the passage of time, until the door swished open, and Highwind strode in, cape fluttering behind her. Theron’s shoulders protested as he stood back up straight, a knot having formed from his hunched position. That round of celebration drinks was sounding really tempting right now — although it was difficult to tell if the guest-of-honor was still up for that. She had the carefully composed neutral facade typical of a Jedi in place as she met both his and Darok’s eye.

“Welcome back, Master Jedi,” Darok intoned, “I’ve heard congratulations are in order.”

“I don’t know about that, Colonel,” she said cautiously, pulling out a datacore, “but I retrieved the data from the Dark Council chambers as requested.”

“Excellent,” he accepted the item in question. “Do you realize that you just succeeded in a mission that many people never dared to dream was possible?”

A keen blue gaze studied the much larger man, although Theron wasn’t quite sure how to interpret the guarded expression. Whatever meditation she had done over the course of her flight, it was unclear if she had found the answers she’d been seeking.

“Anything is possible with the Force,” she said smoothly, and Theron quirked a brow. She glanced his way. From his position behind the console, it was impossible to read the expression. “But sometimes extra assistance goes a long way.”

He didn’t quite know what to make of that. “You’re welcome… I think.”

The neutral expression slipped for just a moment, and he thought he saw her lips twitch as if she were suppressing a smile.

Darok paid the silent byplay no mind, instead stowing away the datacore as he turned his full attention back to the Jedi. “Today we just proved that victory—true victory—is within our grasp. We’ve proven that Korriban is not an impenetrable fortress, and may have just retrieved the key to ending this war once and for all.”

“That is a nice thought,” Highwind said cautiously, “but the Sith have proven to be quite tenacious. It does not pay to underestimate them, despite whatever knowledge is contained within that datacore.”

“That’s very practical thinking, but it’s still a great day for the Republic nonetheless.”

A light on the console in front of Theron began to flash, pulling his attention from the conversation. It was from an auxiliary comm channel. He frowned. Usually those were reserved for emergency broadcasts and distress signals. It was odd for it to be routed to Carrick Station. He pulled up the feed and began to scan through it — and his stomach dropped.

It was from Tython. The message was short, and consisted only of several clipped phrases as if whoever had sent it had just barely had time to get their message through before it was cut off.

_Iso-5 bombs — strike team — Jedi Temple under attack — need help_

A face immediately flashed through Theron’s mind — an older woman valiantly trying to protect her home and students. That face shouldn’t have mattered to him, and yet still it felt as if someone had begun to tighten a vice around his chest. His mind should have immediately focused on the problem, but it took him a few more moments to process everything before his brain suddenly kicked back in. Without hesitation, he keyed in the code to sound the alarm.

“What the devil is that?” Darok demanded.

“It’s Tython,” Theron snapped, “they’re under attack!”

“They’re what?” Somehow the Jedi Master’s quiet voice cut through the loud whoop of the alarms, eyes wide with shock.

“Imperials forces just hit — they’re ransacking the temple.” Unbidden Satele’s image flashed through Theron’s mind again before he quickly banished it. “They need our support _now.”_

Darok gave a curt nod, immediately keying in his comm channel. “Blue Squadron, I need you to finish refueling and launch immediately with any troops not injured from Korriban.”

“How is this possible?” Highwind asked.

“We can find out when we get there,” Darok said, “if you and your team are still willing to help.”

“Of course we are, but I think we need to—”

“Shan,” he barked, “you gather whatever sensor data we can get and forward it to all forces. Everyone needs to be en route in five minutes. Now move!”

Theron gave a curt nod, fingers already dancing across the keys as he pulled in every node and scrap of data in. His brain was already racing, trying to map out what relays were available, what was compromised. Knowing Imperial protocols, they would have knocked out all communications. It was a miracle that someone had managed to get a distress signal out at all—

“Hold on, Colonel,” Highwind’s voice cut through tension in the room like a durasteel blade, “something about this isn’t right. We need to take a moment to _think_ before rushing in.”

“ _Think_? This is your home base being attacked, Master Jedi, and you want to sit around think? Let the Empire capture and ransack your people’s temple _again_?”

“We just attacked Korriban,” she shot back, “at the exact same time the Empire chooses to strike Tython?”

It was as if her words had thrown a bucket of cold water over Theron. His head snapped up and watched the byplay between the two commanding presences in the room. His fingers on the keys stilled as the panic that had been tightening around him dissipated. Now that it had been pointed out, Theron couldn’t _not_ see the connection. This. _This_ was what had been off about the whole mission — and he hadn’t figured it out until too late. He almost cursed aloud, but caught himself at the last moment.

“This cannot be a coincidence,” she insisted.

“You can meditate about coincidences later,” Darok snarled, “but my people and ships will be leaving in five minutes. That is, if you would like to join them.”

Her perfect mask of calm slipped, and for just a moment Theron caught a glimpse of the real woman underneath. Raw determination and anger bubbling just underneath the surface as she didn’t bother to hide her suspicion or indignation at the colonel’s words.

“I cannot stand by while others suffer,” she said firmly, meeting Darok’s eye, but there was an unspoken sentiment hanging in the air. Something else was going on here, and she wasn’t going to rest until she figured out what it was.

And she wasn’t the only one.

“I’ll pull up every scrap of data we’ve got,” Theron cut in, deliberately catching her eye and giving her just the barest of nods, “and talk you through the whole way.”

For a moment he wasn’t sure if she had caught his signal, but she paused, frowning ever-so-slightly before returning the tight nod. It was impossible to ignore the crisis at hand, and of the two of them she had the better chance at retaking Tython. But Theron could keep an eye on things here — especially the surly SpecOps officer shouting out orders over the comm.

“I will gather my crew and meet your men at the shuttle, Colonel,” she said tightly.

“Good. I’ll arrange for every available resource while you’re in transit.”

She let her gaze slip from Darok back to Theron, the severe expression lightening some. “I will be in touch.”

“I’ve sliced into every available sensor,” he said, not breaking eye contact with her as he added, “I should be able to keep an eye on everything from here.”

“We will get Tython back,” she promised, tone so fierce and filled with determination, that not even Theron could doubt that she meant it. “I promise.”

A brief thought of his mother flashed through his mind, but he quickly banished it. He had to focus right now, not get distracted by thoughts of his estranged family. Instead he gave her what he hoped was a confident smile, although it felt too tight and uncomfortable to be real. “Watch your back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters may take a little while longer to get up, as I'm still working on them. Hopefully within the next week or so they'll start to go up.


	9. Requite

Theron had been right about the communications. As soon as the strike team got on the ground, their signal nearly winked out and only became viable after Darok’s men erected a temporary signal amplifier to cut through the noise. Even with the that, the signal from Bickell’s armor cam wavered wildly on the holoprojector, making the images captured look like something out of a funhouse mirror.

Of course, that was the only thing remotely “fun” about what they were witnessing.

Chaos reigned as far as the wavy, static camera could see. Sediment had been kicked up and hung in the air in giant clouds, natural rock and stone blasted and scattered about, nearly indistinguishable from the ancient ruins that had been in the process of being delicately excavated and renovated. So many of the Tythonian and Jedaii ruins he’d remembered from Theron’s one trip to the planet now reduced to rubble.

He had a hard time placing the feeling welling up inside him at seeing the destruction wrought on the past. They had just done the same to Korriban, but that hadn’t hit him in the same way at all. On one hand, he was _not_ a Jedi. Technically this wasn’t his past or his culture anymore that had been attacked — but there was a small part of him that still… it was stupid. He tried to shove that feeling down with the rest of everything he was very studiously ignoring. Because that was how the job was done.

The camera moved as Bickell started to step out onto the field, but the image jerked wildly as its wearer was yanked back. Moments later, the a mortar shell obliterated the spot the soldier was about to step into. The cacophony in Theron’s headset nearly deafened him while the image from Bickell’s camera stilled into something less likely to trigger motion sickness as the lieutenant and the rest of his squadron ducked back into the relative safety of the landing zone.

“Thank you, Master Jedi.” Somehow over the ringing in his ears, Theron was only able to make out just the slightest quaver in Bickell’s voice. Apparently the close call was enough to rattle even the SpecOp officer’s nearly unflappable demeanor.

“We must look out for each other.” Highwind’s voice was pleasant and warm, and probably meant to be comforting. “It appears that we have quite the task before us.”

“Yeah,” Theron cut in over the comm, “that was definitely a close call.”

“What am I looking at here, Theron?”

“Sensor data is sketchy, but from what I’ve been able to decipher the Imps have dug their heels in, all the way to the temple.”

“I suppose we should expect nothing less,” she said mildly, although there was something in her tone that somehow let him know there was a considerable amount of emotion being suppressed. He could sympathize.

“That heavy artillery is going to make for a lot of casualties if we attempt any large-scale deployment.”

“Then we must do something about that.”

Her small but striking figure stepped into the view of the camera as she surveyed the scene before her. Most subtle expressions would have been hard to interpret with the wildly dancing image, but her deep frown was still evident on this end.

“Sensor data is sketchy at best. The Imp’s signal scrambling is doing a number on getting reliable data.”

Without any preamble, she pulled out a set of macrobinoculars, presenting them to the camera feed. “Can you patch into these?”

He couldn’t readily identify the make or model of the device, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Get me an uplink.”

She made a motioning gesture, and Theron heard Teeseven’s telltale whistle as the droid rolled into view. A quick connection to the port of the macrobinoculars to the astromech later, and the device online.

A message flashed in the HUD on Theron’s ocular implants: _T7 = establishing uplink now._

Theron’s fingers flew across the keyboard: _Nice to see you again, buddy._

_T7 + Theron = unstoppable slicing force._

Despite himself, he let a little grin slip. _You got that right. You ready to show these Imps who’s boss?_

_T7 = always ready._

Yeah, okay. Theron could see why Highwind was fond of the little guy.

The display of the macrobinoculars appeared in the HUD, and he absently grabbed a datapad to help sort through the sensor data that was now flooding through. Those were some _very_ fancy macrobinoculars. Fancier than some he could get from the SIS — and if the situation had been any different, he might have grilled Highwind on where she managed to acquire this kind of tech on a Jedi’s budget. A mystery for later, he reminded himself.

So many mysteries with this woman.

“That structure just behind that line of trees there — can you zoom in on that?”

“Hold on,” Highwind said, following his instructions.

A line of data streamed across his vision, and he frowned as he realized what he was looking at. “That’s it. Damn crafty bastards.”

“What?”

“That’s a _Republic_ artillery targeting array — looks like they decided to take up recycling after trashing the place. It’s what feeding coordinates to the bombardment.”

“I see.” In his mind’s eye, he imagined her lips pressing into a thin line. “Would taking that out stop the artillery so the rest of the troops can land?”

“Yes, but I don’t see how—”

“Leave this to me.”

The feed from the macrobinoculars shifted, zooming out before being set down on a slightly shorter surface. Judging by the height, probably on top of Teeseven’s head.

Over the earpiece, Theron could hear Doc groaning. “Oh no, she’s got that look in her eye again.”

Scourge let out what sounded like the longest, most suffering sigh that could have ever been breathed, a sound Theron hadn’t quite imagined he’d ever hear from a Sith.

Kira cut in quickly, “Maybe I can—”

All of it was cut off instantly when the Jedi in question spoke to them firmly. “You all stay here. I will not be long.”

“Wait,” Theron said, realization slowly dawning that the _Defender_ ’s crew seemed to be catching onto something quicker than him, “what exactly is your—?”

A rush of noise took over the audio feed, completely drowning him out. Theron’s gaze cut back over to the feed from Bickell’s armor cam to see the flickering image of a caped figure racing across the battlefield and blasting site at an almost inhuman speed. She bounded from one spot to the next, looking like a rabbit merely hopping about. Showers of dirt and rock exploded into the air as the bombardment followed in her wake.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Theron tried to yell, but the cacophony on the other end drowned him out. There was no way she could hear him, and even if she could, it was doubtful he’d be able to hear any reply over the explosions.

The feed from Bickell’s camera showed that Doc, Rusk, and the rest of the strike team with long range weaponry were laying down cover fire against the ground troops from the relative safety of the landing zone. The targeting array lay at just the edge of the camera’s visual range, and Theron could just make out the clearly insane Jedi whirling in and taking out the guards with lightsabers and the aid of her team’s cover fire. And then.

Then she stopped.

If Theron was being honest with himself, for just one moment, something in his chest thudded to a halt. His breath caught in his throat as the tiny figure on the camera tipped her face to the sky as if she were calling out a challenge. Comprehension dawned on him and he realized what she was doing. But he could only watch in horrified fascination to see if her daft plan would be successful.

It was dangerous. Insane. And if Theron Shan had been gifted with the Force, with all of the extra physical prowess it granted, he was pretty sure it would be something _he_ would try.

His feed beeped at him as the sensors lit up, indicating incoming fire.

“You’ve got a bombardment heading your way,” he growled at her.

“Perfect,” she said, and he was pretty sure he could hear a grin in her voice.

On the wavering feed, Theron watched as she bounded off, cape fluttering behind her as the bombardment came down on the position she had just been in — and took the targeting array with it in an explosion of fire, metal, and smoke that completely obscured the camera’s feed.

As the smoke began to clear, the image did as well, and he could make out Highwind marching back toward the troops. Her cape billowed behind her in full, and between her bearing, the sunlight glinting off her armor, and the grim determination set on her face, she looked like some sort of avenging angel.

Theron’s heart started thumping in his chest in full-time again, even if maybe it skipped one beat or two at the sight. He didn’t notice that as the blood rushed back through his veins, and a wave of relief — and something else he didn’t have the time nor patience to identify — rushed over him, leaving him almost light headed.

Had it been another time or place, he might have even admitted that the entire spectacle was more than a little bit of a—

“Your Jedi is _insane_ , Shan.”

Theron turned his glare onto Darok, although he couldn’t exactly argue with the sentiment as something similar had been running through his head. Similar, but not exactly the same. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, took in a deep breath, and let it out.

_Focus_ , he reminded himself.

“Does that help any?” Highwind asked in that maddeningly deceptive calm of hers, although Theron could still detect just a hint of smugness peeking through.

And for some reason, it was _that_ that made Theron forget himself, for just a moment. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have gotten killed!”

“It worked, though.”

A horrible, no-good thought entered Theron’s mind: Was this what Marcus Trant felt like every day? No. _No_ , she would not have him sympathizing with Marcus over his own stunts in the line of duty. He almost missed the raised eyebrow from Darok, probably amused over the spy clearly having zero control over his asset. In a fit of pique, Theron shoved away from the console to the most remote corner of the room, his voice dropping into an approximation of that deceptive calm Highwind seemed so quick to employ.

“And what would have happened if you had died pulling that stunt?”

“I didn’t — the Force was with me.”

That calm slipped away from him. Theron was never really that good at holding onto it anyway. “ _This_ time.”

“I am open to alternative plans if you have a better idea on gaining more ground.”

Theron ground his teeth together, snorting out a breath, as that little voice in the back of his mind reminded him in almost a mocking tone that he was her handler. It was his job to get her to perform — and she had done so admirably. Flashy even. Better than he could have if he’d been there. And he had no idea about what part of that bothered him the most. If any of that was even the real issue.

“You do realize there are two more targeting arrays just like that one?”

She let out a quiet breath, as if maybe, just maybe, that hadn’t occurred to her. “Two more?”

“I doubt they’re just going to blow up the other two for you, no matter how fancy your footwork.”

“Well…” Was that a bit of consternation peeking through that Jedi calm? “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

After this was over, Theron was taking up drinking. _Heavily_.


	10. Momento Mori

In the end, it was a compromise. Highwind’s fancy footwork and insane strategy of playing chicken with the targeting arrays managed carry her through the second target. The third one had to be taken out the old fashioned way, though, with lightsabers and blaster fire.

The Gnarls had been reclaimed, and the Imp’s command platform neutralized. Theron was still untangling the mess the invading force had made when they’d sliced into the shield grid, but they’d managed to open up the reinforcement’s approach vectors and they were able to get troops on the ground safely now. A quick glance over at Darok and the large holotable showed him that the second wave was just starting to land.

It was just a matter of retaking the temple. Highwind was still leading the way, blazing a path through Imperials and Flesh Raider like a wildfire through dry tinder. Now that Theron had his hooks into the system, he was able to monitor their progress on a map on the terminal he’d claimed, but he was still trying to get actual eyes on them in the field. It wasn’t much but it made him feel better. More part of the mission. Rather than just being relegated to tech support.

Most of the Jedi’s security cameras had been damaged in the initial assault, but there was one flickery feed from above the temple steps. Theron leaned back, pretending to stretch out the very real kink developing between his shoulders from being hunched over the keys for so long. The entire room was lined with monitors and terminals, all the metal surfaces shined to an exquisite military polish. Perfect for observing a target while leaving them unaware.

Darok was hunched over the holotable, gaze focused on all of the dots and figures of troops and ships as well as the enemy combatants. Occasionally he’d gesture wildly as he let out a terse string of orders. He was the very image of the perfect Republic soldier, dedicated to taking back the homeworld of some of their staunchest allies while keeping his men alive. After this, someone would probably want to pin a medal on his chest.

The Savior of Tython — he might have to wrestle with Highwind for the title.

It was too bad it was all an act. After it had been pointed out, Theron couldn’t _not_ see it. The sudden rush of intel and push to raid Korriban combined with the simultaneous attack on Tython. It _was_ too much of a coincidence.

He recognized the mark of a con — the tantalizing prospect of something too good to pass up, something the target desperately wanted more than anything else. A sudden press of urgency and a ticking clock was meant to bypass normal caution, to push the target into action. It was the tactics of grifters and spies, of someone manipulating things to their own end.

Except that the target this time was the Republic, and whoever the mastermind of this was had used _him_ as a pawn in this game. That was their big mistake — Theron Shan was no man’s puppet. No one could pull his strings and expect him to jump. Whether Darok was the mastermind, another pawn, or just some unwitting bystander he wasn’t sure. All Theron had right now was an instinctual and instant dislike to the man. Maybe it was just Darok’s grating personality. Or maybe it was gut instinct.

Either way, a good idea to keep an eye on him. Gather the data and surveil the suspects right now and sort through the details later. There was more going on than first met the eye here — something bigger simmering under the surface. He’d find out what it was — no one played him for the fool and got away with it.

Right now though, he needed to get eyes on the other player in this game as well.

Theron finished his fake stretch, satisfied that Darok was occupied at the moment, and returned to the keys in front of him. With a few quick taps, he had patched the feed from the staticky Jedi Temple camera into the HUD on his implants. There was probably no way that the single, damaged camera could accurately convey the havoc wrought on his mother’s home, but that same sick feeling started to churn again in his gut as he got a glimpse of the smoking temple grounds. The lush green rolling hills leading up to the temple had been charred to a dull brown, and dust, dirt, and smoke had kicked up a thick haze. The practice dummies and meditation spots that had been part of the serene landscape were gone, likely buried under the rubble. From the fluttering remains of a brown robe under a large chunk of stone that had fallen from one the large looming statues of knights old — it was possible the landscape wasn’t the only thing buried under the rubble.

He blew out a long breath, gathered his focus, and analyzed the feed beyond the destruction to try and find his team. The dramatic billowing cape and striking purple hue of the twin lightsabers made Highwind easy to pick out even with all of the smoke and rubble. He turned the audio channel from her comm back up just as she finished slicing through several droids that had rushed the group. Kira bent down to examine them, and let out an anguished sound she couldn’t completely muffle.

“Kira,” Highwind’s voice was soft, pitched low to only where her friend could hear. Not measured and even this time, but both sympathetic and gently warning. “We can’t let—”

“These were Master Dentiri’s training droids,” Kira didn’t bother to disguise the anger and sorrow rising in her voice as she stood.

“I know.” The statement was still soft, and there was a thread of a deeper emotion trying to surface. As if Highwind herself couldn’t completely tamp it all down. Theron wasn’t sure exactly what she was trying to keep restrained, but it still struck something inside of him.

“They are merely droids,” Scourge cut in, disdain dripping from his tone. “There is nothing to mourn in twisted metal.”

Teeseven let out an angry whistle protesting that statement, and Kira stepped up to the Sith. Her expression wasn’t visible from the distance, but it didn’t need to be, because her entire posture radiated an anger and rage that was supposed to be anathema to the Jedi. Theron hated it, but he had to agree somewhat with Scourge’s callous statement — at the moment he couldn’t see any significance in the reprogramming of a bunch of training droids.

“Master Dentiri would never let them be reprogrammed like this! Not while he was alive.”

 _Oh_.

“Kira, please,” Highwind approached her friend hand held out in a complacent gesture. “It’s difficult to see all of this, I know, but we need to stay calm and focus on the present—”

It all happened in the same moment.

Highwind cut her own statement off abruptly, and Theron watched on the feed as in an instant her entire posture changed. Back straightening and head snapping up as if some invisible string had pulled at her. Her outstretched hand jutted out forcefully, fingers splaying out into an expansive gesture as both Kira and Scourge were thrown several feet apart by some unseen force. Or rather, the Force. A barely perceptible shimmer rippled across the camera feed before a long vibroblade pierced the spot where the two Force users had just been standing, wielded by a figure Theron didn’t recognize.

He tried to enhance his visual from the feed, but it was pointless. The signal from the camera was barely operating as it was. He could only watch as purple lightsaber met with vibroblade from the new combatant: a bald woman with clearly visible implants, even from the distance. If he’d had time and a clearer image he would have fed her likeness through a database. Maybe he’d get a name, or maybe not. From the woman’s fighting style, the grade of the implants, and the reprogramming of the droids — maybe an operative from whatever was left of Imperial intelligence. 

More of the reprogrammed training droids joined the fray, engaging with the rest of the strike team. Theron could only watch the battle between the distant, flickering holofigures while hearing every clash and strike over the comm. That same feeling of uselessness started to creep up again. He could add nothing to this fight, the outcome was down to the skill of his operatives on the other end. He had to _trust_ that they’d get the job done. And not die in the process.

Theron swallowed the bitter feeling and glanced back at the nearest reflective surface. Darok was still absorbed in his portion of the battle. Perhaps even unaware of the strike team’s close call. The embers of the fire burning inside him flickered to life, that flame of anger tempering his resolve like durasteel being shaped into finely honed blade.

He turned that fervor back into something useful, delving into the sensor data as the battle continued to play out in his HUD. With each crash of the blade, hum of the lightsaber, and shriek of blaster fire, Theron pierced through more of the Imperial firewalls separating him from the Temple. He flung every new layer of data onto the terminals around him, not bothering to hide his work from Darok. Let the bastard see who he was dealing with, let him know that nothing could hide from Theron when he turned the microscope to it.

Maybe he couldn’t lend his blaster to the fight raging on the temple steps, but he could scrape every single shred of data together. Find the location of every single Sith and Imperial trooper lurking inside and obliterate any chance of further ambush. They might have razed the temple and every single Jedi within it, but they would not keep their bloodied prize. That was for damn sure.

As the battle finished, silence settled over the comm. The flickering chaotic image on the HUD had almost stilled, and if he hadn’t seen the telltale cape fluttering in the wind, Theron might have been concerned about the fate of his operative. A dark mood had settled over the strike team, and he almost felt like he was intruding, but pushed it aside. There wasn’t time for that right now.

“Are you clear?”

“We are,” she said.

While they had been fighting, he’d managed to put together a patchy map of intel from the interior of the building. Without hesitation, he funneled that data stream to his feed to Teeseven, and the little astromech faithfully projected it out in front of him.

He heard a long breath exhaled on the other end of the comm. “Is this what we’re up against inside?”

“Yes,” Theron said, perhaps a little brusquely. “No more surprises like that one.”

“There might be still a few of those awaiting us inside,” Highwind said quietly, a weary note breaking through the practiced calm. “Even with this.”

Theron was a naturally suspicious man. It was a healthy trait in his profession to finely hone paranoia into a tool of survival. Whoever the mastermind was that had orchestrated this bleak tragedy would have be someone wily and almost Machiavellian — capable of seeing the lives of the combatants on the field as pawns on a larger Dejarik board. Unwilling or even unable to view them as people. If that exacted a toll on their psyche, would it even be able to be seen?

As Highwind had stalked out of the warroom earlier, Theron had considered her role in this. Logically it was best to consider and eliminate every potential suspect. Darok was first on the list, having been the one who found the opening on Korriban and suggested the operation to Jace. He’d planned that entire mission. It was only natural to suspect him, especially considering his nearly maniacal drive to get into the Dark Council chambers.

But right after Darok came Highwind herself. Theron still couldn’t figure her out or where she fell into all of this. If she had any contact or involvement with Darok prior to this, it wasn’t indicated anywhere in her file. Of course, there had been those missing six months — anything could have happened then. Including contact with a surly SpecOps officer. Of course, that had to have meant that Darok would have somehow engineered her involvement in the operation. Could he have planted the suggestion to Jace to have a member of the Coruscant Aegis? Perhaps but… that didn’t add up.

Theron had been the one to make the decision on the recruitment from the Aegis. If the Aegis member was the lynchpin in the plan, Darok would have to had to find some way to have each person on that list under his thumb. It was technically possible — almost anything was with his lack of intel — but that was the thing about conspiracies. They worked best by keeping people in the dark. It was the nature of secrets — the less people who knew, the less chance of being discovered. 

Besides, Darok seemed to set Highwind on edge almost as much as he did with Theron. That kind of thing could have been staged. So could have their bristling anger and standoff over the slave pens on Korriban. All of her wild heroics could have been played up for the supposedly stupid spy observing all of this. Her kind and sympathetic Jedi act could be just that — a way to throw him off the scent. Maybe she realized Theron was observing her closely and she was trying to play to his sympathies. Maybe the stoop in her shoulders as she walked up the temple steps was just an act, and maybe the glimpse of the unguarded expression on her face was also part of the show. Meant to convey the anguish and heavy toll of someone whose home had just been destroyed. That tightly wound control slipping through her fingers was something he was meant to sympathize with because it was a mirror of his own state of mind.

Anything was possible.

But as her eyes closed, he heard the heavy, deep breath she took in, and caught a quick glimmer on her cheeks that was quickly scrubbed away before those following in step behind her could see — and that hard suspicion of his splintered into a thousand pieces.

Whatever secrets lay in her past, whatever the source of those missing six months from her file was… it had nothing to do with this. He felt that as sure as anything. Deep down in his gut, like those sure and certain feelings the Jedi might feel from the Force. Ngani Zho used to say they were one and the same, regardless of one’s affinity for it.

Theron hesitated, before he keyed in his subvocal mic. “Hey. You all right?”

“Yes,” she said almost too quietly for even the overtuned comm unit to pick up. “I will be fine.”

If they were more than strangers, maybe this would have been the moment for him to say something comforting. Or encouraging. As her handler, all he needed to do was get her to finish the mission. Beyond that, none of this was any of his business. He was a professional. They both were. So he swallowed back whatever that feeling attempting to creep up on him was, and pulled up the sensor data.

“There’s an ambush waiting for you at the stairs. Prepare to get swarmed.”

“Okay,” she said. “We’ll be ready. After that?”

Theron blew out a breath, sorting through the stream of code to pick out the relevance of all the data. “There’s shielding around the Jedi Temple Library. They’re up to something in there.”

“The library,” she echoed softly, footfalls slowing their ascent. “A raid on the Jedi’s stores of knowledge. Just like the raid on the Sith’s.”

If there had been _any_ lingering doubt of her being some sort of clever and dastardly mastermind, that put it to rest. Her constantly putting together the clues of the mystery unfolding before them was not exactly the work of an evil genius, just the opposite in fact. She also had a point. The coincidences were starting to stack up, and the more of them they found, the harder it was to ignore.

“I'm sending the source of the shield’s power to Teeseven,” Theron said, not acknowledging her statement aloud. Too many ears here. “You’ll have to shut it down before you can see what’s going on.”

“We will get to the bottom of this,” she promised, out loud this time as if for everyone to hear.

“Communication is going to get patchy when you get inside,” he reminded her. “So watch your back.”

“I will. Thank you, Theron,” she said, not bothering to hide her gratitude. “We couldn’t do this without you.”

She disappeared off from the view of the camera, entering into the ruined temple. An odd tightness began to settle in his chest. It was both light and smothering, and ideally, he’d be able to be alone to try and sort through whatever the feeling was. Maybe it was nerves. It was probably nerves. Too keyed up about the fate of Satele, the rest of the Jedi even, and not having eyes on his operative as she entered the most dangerous leg of the mission.

He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and glanced at the reflection closest to him. Then stood back in alarm from the console, abandoning all subtly as he turned to face an empty room. At some point, Darok had slipped out without Theron even noticing.

He glared at the station that the colonel had taken up residence at, considering the merits of pulling the security footage from the room. Maybe bypass a few Carrick Station safety protocols and track down the errant officer. See exactly what he was up to.

Theron didn’t have time for that. He had people on the ground, and despite the mounting suspicion over the colonel’s involvement in all of this, the safety of those in the line of fire was top priority. Once the mission was over, it was going to be Darok’s turn under the microscope. See what sort of dirty secrets were just waiting to be dug up. The truth would come out, and Theron _would_ see justice done for every single life lost today.

No matter the cost.


	11. Suspicions

All-in-all, Darok was not gone at all that long. Just a few minutes if that.

 _Maybe he went to the refresher_ , Theron thought to himself sarcastically. _Just couldn’t hold it another minute._

By the time the colonel returned, Theron had busied himself back at the terminal. He caught the movement in the reflection of the monitor and made a mental note of the time. It hadn’t been enough to make more than a quick call, although the question of to who remained. Most of the comm traffic going in and out of Carrick Station was either monitored or secured. If it had been on official channels, there would be a log of it somewhere. Another item for Theron’s ever expanding to-do list once he had the freedom to begin his investigation.

That would be soon.

Not long after Darok had made his reappearance, they’d gotten word from the team on the ground that the battle had been won. Tython was theirs again, but it had come at a high cost. There was cleanup work to be done — major cleanup work. It would take months to repair or rebuild what the bombings had destroyed. To say nothing of the fatalities they were currently tallying.

That uncomfortable feeling in Theron’s chest was trying to settle back in, and he still didn’t have the time nor energy to spend on it. Part of Theron wished he had an unobstructed view of the temple from the armorcams of Darok’s men, but he still wanted to keep a low profile. From his position, he could only catch glimpses of what was mostly wreckage. Unless he went and joined Darok at the holotable, there was no chance he could look at any of the faces of the dead. Perhaps that was for the best. Outside of Hashimuut, Theron hadn’t spent much time among large groups of Jedi. It had mostly just Master Zho and him. Easier to focus on the larger picture if he didn’t try to individual faces. Or maybe just one face in particular. But he wasn’t thinking about that right now.

Instead he busied himself with sorting through the data that Teeseven fed him. The rest of Highwind’s team had been put to work with the rescue crews, and the little faithful astromech had begun the long arduous process of sifting through the wreckage to try and salvage what was left of the temple’s security footage and data.

If there was anything to salvage at all. Theron pursed his lips, seeing the fragments of code he would have to sort through later. Piecing together exactly what had happened was going to be a massive undertaking.

That left one last wildcard in this situation: Highwind herself.

 _Apparently_ she had ordered Bickell and his men to keep all of the prisoners secured until a team of SIS agents could begin questioning them. Theron found it interesting that she was attempting to direct the investigation work over to his branch rather than leave any interrogation to SpecOps. Perhaps that meant she trusted Theron more than Darok with this. The colonel himself had only grunted with just the barest amount of disgruntlement at the announcement, as if the fate of the prisoners on the ground didn’t matter to him at all. Like he’d already gotten what he wanted.

Theron was still musing on that, and the other little mysteries surrounding his asset when she strode in with all of the force (and Force) of a Jedi to be reckoned with. Her strides were measured and deliberate, setting a quick pace that made her cape billow behind her as she once again commanded the attention of the entire room. Perhaps it was in the stern set of her jaw, or the way her attention zeroed in on Darok. Maybe it was just something in her eyes, a dangerous glint that a less observant person might pick up on. Whatever it was, Theron was almost glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of her attention at the moment. Maybe _that_ was the look that Doc had kept mentioning.

“Master Jedi, good to see you,” Darok said smoothly, standing up to his full height. “Our forces are sweeping the rest of the muck off of Tython as we speak.”

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently, as her brows drew down into an unhappy expression. Yeah, no. Theron wasn’t saving Darok from whatever storm was brewing in the Jedi’s intense gaze. In fact, he would’ve broken out the bangcorn if he’d had any on hand.

“Tell me, Colonel, this muck you speak of. Are you referring to the devastation wrought upon my temple? Or perhaps the people we’ve taken prisoner?”

Darok’s lips pressed into a thin line as his wide shoulders raised up in indignation. He apparently did not like being called out on his behavior. Not that it was the first time that Theron had heard that sort of comment from the military. He was pretty sure that not even the Jedi were so perfect as to keep that sort of sentiment tamped down completely.

For all his bluster, the colonel seemed smart enough to not fall into the trap of clarifying his comment, and instead just snorted out a breath before forcing a grim smile onto his face. “You will be glad to hear that reconstruction crews are already being prepped.”

“That is good news,” she said evenly. “It sounds like you have been busy over here.”

“The Jedi homeworld coming under attack tends to garner a lot of attention from Republic command,” he agreed. “The Imps caught us by surprise, but it could have been a lot worse. Thanks in no small part to your leadership.”

The flattery seemed to fall on deaf ears as Highwind just crossed her arms, fixing the larger man with that same intense stare. “I have been meditating as you suggested, Colonel.”

Confusion stole across Darok’s face, as he tried to recall whenever he’d made that sort of suggestion. “I don’t—”

“You said that after we recovered Tython that I should meditate on the coincidences of today. I spent my time on the journey here doing just that.”

“Have you now?”

“Yes, on the timing of our attack and the Empire’s. They must have happened almost simultaneously. That is a _remarkable_ coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Darok rumbled. “For the enemy to launch an assault of this magnitude speaks of a robust intel network. Perhaps Imperial Intelligence isn’t quite as devastated as we have been led to believe. I am _sure_ the SIS will determine how we managed to miss so many red flags.”

It was a comment designed to rile Theron. Another mark of a con. Keep the targets off balance. Keep them emotional. Nice try, but he wasn’t falling for it. That said, it didn’t take much to lace a good amount of anger and indignation into his tone. “Yes. We’ll get _right_ on that.”

Highwind’s gaze briefly flicked away from Darok to study Theron, but the action was too quick for him to decipher it.

“All the same,” Darok continued on, “your work has been exemplary — gaining us two back-to-back victories. You are a hero and that deserves recognition.”

“A Jedi does not need to seek recognition. The act of doing what is right is enough.” Stars, she sounded like a recruitment pamphlet. Well. If the Jedi _had_ recruitment pamphlets.

The colonel didn’t seem to hear her, as he pulled out a box that had been delivered during her return flight and held it out as if for inspection. She eyed the box with the same amount of skepticism that Theron had on its arrival, but her lack of enthusiasm didn’t make an impact on the show that Darok was putting on. Without another word, he opened it up to reveal a glinting, ornate medal.

The medal was just shiny and distracting enough that neither of them were paying close enough attention to see Theron’s startled reaction at its appearance. Had _that_ been what Darok had disappeared off to take care of? No. It couldn’t have been. That had happened before Tython had been successfully recovered. That would have meant he would have had to arrange for the medal before there was a victory to award it for. Or… or perhaps that was his cover story. Come to think of it, there hadn’t been any mention of the teams that had remained behind on Korriban. Had they made it out safely? And if they hadn’t, why hadn’t Darok brought it up? Why was he so focused on branding today as a day of victory?

If Theron voiced his thoughts aloud they would sound utterly paranoid. This whole thing would sound paranoid. But no… there was something here. He would need to comb through whatever communication logs he could get his hands on to verify.

“This is the medal of valor. One of the Republic’s most prestigious commendations.” Perfect. She could hang it up next her Cross of Glory and whatever other trinkets she’d collected over the course of her overly heroic career. “The Chancellor herself wanted me to present this to you. She was truly impressed with your heroic actions today, just as I am. Congratulations.”

One dark blonde brow arched high as she glanced between Darok and his offering. The colonel continued to hold out the medal and its rather ornate box, and as the moment began to stretch out, the more awkwardness and tension built. Finally, she blew out a breath and accepted the box, shutting the lid without giving its contents a second look.

“My crew, Bickell, and the rest of your men deserve just as much recognition for their work on Tython.” She managed to sound almost diplomatic. “Perhaps more.”

“They do,” Darok agreed, “but your name is the one that lights up the HoloNet. Especially considering this particular commendation has never been awarded as quick before.”

A flicker of that shadow appeared in her eyes again, before she successfully smoothed her expression back into that Jedi placidity. “I am more interested in speaking of what happened today than the headline that will lead on RNN tonight.”

“It’s hard to leave an operation,” he rumbled, “we’ve all been there. But your part in this is done now. You should focus on your victory and all the rewards that come with it.”

“I do not need a medal,” she said firmly, “what I need are answers. We need to find the person responsible for what happened today and bring them to justice.”

“We have all of the information you gathered.” Darok’s smooth, complimentary tone began to harden. “I’m sure we’ll be able to identify them soon enough.”

“There’s also the matter of a Sith lord that I spoke to on the holo in the Council’s chambers. I told Bickell about it,” she continued on as if she hadn’t heard the shift in tone. “Before the Sith realized I was not his compatriot he was talking about a package that had been secured.”

“Maybe they just took the opportunity to grab a few things,” the colonel's words came out in a tight clip.

“We need to identify who this Sith is and what he wants. He said something about—”

Now that she was on a roll, Highwind kept going as if she _needed_ to be heard. As she did so, Darok’s frown settled in deeper and deeper. The large man’s shoulders bunched up, big meaty fists settling on his hips while his lips pressed together in a line.

For all of her keen observations and quick thinking in the field, right now Highwind was like a Sibian hound that had caught a scent. So fixated on her goal, the Jedi wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings and appeared to be almost oblivious to the danger practically tingling in the air. Nor did she seem to notice that with each protest she uttered the more predatory the colonel’s expression became. He didn’t seem to _like_ questions.

Theron took several steps back so that he was out of Darok’s line of sight, before he keyed his subvocal mic. “ _Stop_.”

That seemed to take her off guard, and for a moment she looked like she was about to bring attention to the subterfuge. Her protest ended in a lurch as he gaze strayed over Darok’s shoulder to Theron. He didn’t say anything else, just caught her eye and shook his head ever so slowly. They couldn’t talk here.

She pursed her lips together, that Jedi calm driven away as her temper flared in a way that Theron had not expected at all. Then again, she kept finding new ways to surprise him. This was just one more to the tally. Thankfully, though, she relented in pressing on in her line of questioning. Frustration evident, she let out an annoyed sigh before turning her attention back to Darok. He was still eyeing her with a sharp intensity that made Theron’s skin crawl.

“I apologize, Colonel, perhaps you are right,” she said tersely, as if it cost her something to say it. “I suppose that there might be some good to be found in today. I should _meditate_ on that further.”

“That is most _wise_ , Master Highwind,” Darok rumbled, continuing to eye her for several long moments. “I have my own work to do. I’ve been tasked with organizing the Tython cleanup.”

She tipped her head to him in acknowledgement. “I see, that is quite the task. I should not keep you from it.”

“I need to let the Jedi Council know the Republic is behind them. Let them know this is not like Coruscant. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned back to the holotable, completely dismissing the remaining two people in the room as if they weren’t even there.

The tension that had filled the room seemed to dissipate with the action, and Theron quietly let out a breath. He would definitely be adding “stubborn and bullheaded” as a note to Highwind’s file, just as a heads up to any future handler. Maybe put in a warning or two about her propensity to take dangerous risks. She was still glaring at the colonel’s back with undisguised suspicion at this point.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, managing to pulling her attention away, “but _I_ need that drink.”

He was eager to leave this damn room and put some distance between them and Darok, so Theron didn’t even wait to see if she followed. He just made a beeline for the bar. If she was as quick on the uptake as she seemed, she’d get the hint.


	12. Hypotheticals

Theron glared at the bright sign over the bar as another minute on the display’s minuscule chronometer ticked by without any sign of his asset. He checked the urge to let out an annoyed breath, and instead swirled around the contents of his glass to occupy his waiting time. The off brand whiskey from Soccoro was considerably cheaper than Whyren’s Reserve, but it still had the woody notes he enjoyed in the beverage.

The bartenders here on Carrick Station tended to water down drinks more than usual, although whether that was a request from Republic Command, or just a way to extend profits he didn’t know. However, it was still alcoholic, and right now that’s what mattered. Besides, a watered down drink suited him just fine at the moment. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be here, and he needed to keep up appearances on the off chance anyone was watching.

The likelihood of that was low considering he’d been careful to keep his suspicions of Darok to himself — unlike _some_ people he could maintain a low profile. Not that Theron wouldn’t have relished the chance to openly glare at the bastard, but sometimes it was better to be subtle. Especially when it came to tailing and observing targets. He wasn’t sure what role Darok had played in the invasion of Tython, but he’d find that out soon enough.

Thoughts of the Jedi Temple in ruins inevitably led his mind astray, and he tried to flick the mental query about the status of the Grand Master to the back of his mind for what had to be the fifth time. He was pretty sure there would have been mention from his Knight Errant if she had seen any sign of Satele during the battle to retake the temple. If her reaction to the family resemblance was anything to judge by (not to mention the amount of times their names cropped up together in the dossier), they had to be at least familiar with each other. Or at least more so than the average Jedi was to the Grand Master. After all, her first reaction on seeing him was to latch onto the family resemblance.

Satele could take care of herself, Theron knew that. If she wasn’t on Tython at the time, then she was likely engaged in some important business elsewhere. It was inevitable that she would be briefed on what had happened at the temple and likely already be on her way back home. It didn’t make much sense to call in a professional sense, and he _definitely_ wasn’t going to just ring her up to say hello.

He took another, very shallow sip of his whiskey and glanced at the chronometer again. Perhaps he’d been too subtle in his invitation to Highwind, and she hadn’t realized his comment about the drink was an excuse to talk to her away from Darok. She seemed fairly sharp, even for a Jedi. Hopefully she hadn’t decided to keep trying to press Darok on her _painfully_ obvious suspicions. Theron frowned into his glass, wondering how he kept getting pulled into jobs with Jedi.

It certainly wasn’t the will of the Force. If the damn thing had ever given him any sort of favor he would have been on Korriban and Tython right alongside the little blonde with a lightsaber of his own, rather than stuck being the voice in her ear. His efforts may have been crucial to the overall success of the mission, but being cooped up in a room while someone else did the heavy lifting wasn’t his style.

While he preferred sneaking into the back door to kicking down the front, either of those options would at least have him in the middle of the action. It would have given him first-hand information on what had gone down at both locations, rather than him having to interpret the conversations Highwind’s earpiece had picked up.

Information was key. And honestly, it _was_ of utmost importance to the ongoing war efforts to know the status and whereabouts of the members of the Jedi Council, especially the Grand Master. And damn it, if something had happened to her, someone was going to have to tell Jace. Not that the two were an item anymore, but still. That wasn’t the sort of thing you just heard in a report.

Not that Theron was volunteering for that thankless task.

And since he had no idea whether the Hero of Tython was going to grace him with her presence, he could at least kill some time and answer that stupid question nagging at him. Without another thought about it, he pulled out his holo and keyed in Satele’s private frequency. She had given it to him after the Duros mission, for whatever reason he still couldn’t figure out. He’d committed it to memory immediately and destroyed the physical copy, as a direct line to the head of the Jedi Order was information that needed to be carefully controlled.

Almost immediately the other end picked up, and the fuzzy blue image of the Grand Master sprang up from the small device. He felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease a little at seeing her face frowning in confusion, even if the quality of the call obscured the finer details of her expression. Judging from the flickering image, she was quite a distance away.

“Theron,” she said in greeting, her tone measured and careful, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting a call.”

Maybe he should have led with something else, but apparently the small amount of whiskey had removed at least one brain-to-mouth filter. “I’m guessing you weren’t at the temple.”

“No,” she said, “I’m acting as an emissary to the Drayvos League.”

“Have you heard?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes briefly. Even over the call it was obviously she was trying to gather a measure of calm. “I felt Master Traless’s passing through the Force, and the rest… I felt them too.”

He probably should have passed along something along the lines of condolences, but those words stuck in his throat. He washed that away with another sip of whiskey, trying to control his expression as the woman on the other end of the holocall seemed to collect herself.

“We got it back,” he managed to get out tersely. “I’m sorry it wasn’t soon enough.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I’m sure you all did the best you could.”

Maybe it was just that small glimpse of vulnerability that she let slip through, but his ironclad desire to maintain professional distance slipped away, and suddenly he wasn’t just another SIS agent confirming the security of high ranking Republic personnel. For a moment, they were almost something resembling mother and son. Maybe not like a normal family, but still close enough that he wanted… he didn’t know. To offer reassurance? Let her know he was going to find the truth? To ask for her help? No. That was crazy. Not only had the Council not been informed of the Korriban op beforehand (that would be a fun call for Jace to have), but this wasn’t a secure line. There would be too much for him to explain. And honestly, would she even believe his crazed conspiracy theories?

No. Of course she wouldn’t.

And even if she did, there were too many potential ears listening in around them. Before talking about anything classified he’d have to determine who around him was actually drunk and who was listening. What she needed from him was the actual truth on what had happened today. What she deserved was the _real_ reason that her home had been ransacked, and why her people had been killed.

“I just thought you should know,” he finally said.

It was almost too hard to tell over the weak connection of the call, but he thought he saw the normally composed expression soften just a faction. It was probably his imagination. “I’m glad you called.”

“Right,” he said awkwardly. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “My mind is a little more at ease now.”

Her attention was pulled away as two officers walked into view of the call. He saw her eyes flick over her shoulder, possibly sensing their approach. Without saying anything to him she turned to address them. Something about the way the two held themselves, glancing at the private communication their commander was viewing struck Theron as odd, and he tried to suppress a frown.

Satele glanced back at him, already reaching for the disconnect button. “I’m sorry, Agent, but something has come up. Besides, it appears that you have company.”

He didn’t break from his position, but flicked his eyes over towards the bar to see one blonde Jedi Master approaching him, obvious curiosity on her face. He gave Satele a curt nod of acknowledgement, and she ended the call before anything else could be said.

“That was Grand Master Satele, wasn’t it?” Highwind asked as she approached.

He gave her a small measure of his usual annoyance for someone so casually broadcasting that sort of thing, which apparently was a little too subtle for the Jedi to catch as she just kept staring at the space where the Grand Master’s image had been a few moments before. Like spies, a lot of Jedi were fairly guarded when it came to their inner-thoughts. This one apparently was a bit of an exception, because Highwind was fairly obviously broadcasting concern.

“Yeah, that was her,” he said. “She wasn’t anywhere near Tython.”

“Theron, I’m sorry,” her voice dropped, the note of contrition contained within entirely baffling, “I should have let you know that I didn’t find any evidence of her while I was there.”

“You had other things on your mind,” he said, trying to impart a note of finality into his voice. “Like not dying on the other end of a lightsaber.”

“Still, she’s your—“

“We’re not that close,” he interrupted, and straightened up in his chair so he could catch her eye. “Your Order’s pretty particular about that point.”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” she said quietly. “If I have, I apologize.”

“Forget it,” he muttered, “it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t have your particular talent as it turns out.”

She gazed at him curiously, cocking her heading to the side as if trying to slot in a new piece she had just found to a puzzle she had been working on. It made him feel itchy and uncomfortable, and he immediately looked into the depths of his glass of whiskey. He swirled the liquid around, watching as the sugars of the alcohol clung to the sides and slowly worked their way down the side of the glass.

“I’m going to guess she gave—“

“I’ve got a tab open at the bar,” he interrupted the query before she could even finish, “go order something.”

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

“Get a _drink_ ,” he said insistently. “Before you start getting any looks standing there looking like a Jedi.”

“I _am_ a Jedi,” she reminded him.

He motioned to the bar. “So go get a refreshment. I assume your lot is still allowed to do _that_ aren’t they?”

“Yes,” she said tersely.

“Then help yourself. I’m not going anywhere.”

She frowned ever so slightly at the dismissal, before turning on her heel and approaching the bar. He watched her surreptitiously, pretending he was more interested in the glass in his hand. Whatever she was saying seemed to confuse the server for a few moments, before he apparently took in her attire completely. The dramatic eye roll was obvious even from this far away, and he had to go into the back before he returned with a tall mug of a steaming beverage, and handed it over

She walked back, shoulders back, and mug tightly gripped between both of her hands to keep any of the liquid from spilling. He expected to see the strings of some sort of tea bag over the side of the mug, but as she took the chair opposite to him, he could just make out the telltale aroma and dark brown color of caf.

Interesting choice.

“I have a drink,” she said with finality.

“That’s caffa,” he said blandly. “That’s _not_ a drink. There’s no alcohol in it.”

“It’s liquid and you drink it,” she corrected primly, “therefore, it’s a _drink_.”

“Well, if you want to be _literal_ , sure.”

“Besides, I try not to drink alcohol.”

He almost, _almost_ asked what she meant by “try”, but stopped himself at the last moment. They were already getting sidetracked to his reason for coming here.

“I apologize if I was prying,” she said carefully. “I did not mean to speak out of turn on what might be a difficult subject.”

“It’s not difficult,” he said flatly. “It’s just a closed one. People in my line of work don’t really discuss that sort of thing.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, and took a sip from her mug as if to busy herself. It wasn’t usually the Jedi way to act so… casual around others. If that was the right word.

The normalcy of the whole act caught him a little off guard, and he found himself adding without really thinking, “Everything worked out for the best, even if it’s different than what I first thought. I’m good at what I do.”

“If you ask me, I think you turned out pretty well,” she said, glancing up from her mug of caf, a small smile playing across her face.

His brain frizted out for a moment as he tried to interpret that statement. From anyone else he would have assumed they were trying to flirt with him. Considering her background, he couldn’t completely dismiss the fact that she was likely oblivious to that sort of thing. He decided to chalk it up to that so he could tackle the subject at hand. “Well, if that’s so, hopefully you’ll keep listening. At least, as long as you have a drink in hand.”

“Well, you were quite insistent that I grab one.”

He probably should have apologized for his brusqueness earlier, but he just shrugged. “I like to keep up appearances.”

“For the bartender?” She took a casual sip from the mug, but the look she shot him over the rim was contemplative, not confused. “Or are you concerned about other eyes?”

“You catch on quick.”

“You are not the first SIS agent I’ve had a meeting with under false pretenses.”

“Is it really a false pretense if we already made the arrangements before there was a need for one?” he shot back. “Besides, I bought you that drink, as promised.”

“So you did, and I still have a way left to go in this mug.” She leaned back in the seat, cupping the beverage between both of her hands. “Was there more you wanted to speak about, other than just the merits of what constitutes a ‘drink’?”

Touché. Apparently she knew how to duel with something other than just lightsabers. His first instinct was to return fire with a sarcastic remark, but he caught himself. While not normally one to back down from a challenge, there was a bigger issue here. Something was rotten on Carrick Station, and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

He ran a finger along the rim of his glass, looking at the Jedi’s guarded expression. Any lingering doubts on her being part of Darok’s scheme had been pretty thoroughly put to rest by her practically trying to interrogate him on the spot. The amount of planning and forethought to somehow arrange that for Theron’s benefit was, quite frankly, paranoid. More paranoid than the spy’s current line of thinking. Also, Highwind’s record spoke for itself. Not to mention her performance on both of the missions. There was no telling what was going on, but if anyone could handle the unknown it was the woman in front of him. It would be stupid for him not to recruit her into this.

“This conversation is off the books,” he finally said. “Does that bother you?”

“I had a feeling it might be,” she returned. “Is this in regards to what I’m thinking?”

“It might be.” Theron sat his drink down and folded his hands together. “I don’t need the Force to do simple math. Things don't add up here. Something’s _off_.”

She nodded. “The timing of both attacks was too convenient.”

“That’s not all.” He frowned, doing quick calculations on how much of his hand he should play, and decided it would be beneficial to put most of his cards on the table. “Darok and these ops… there’s something being buried here.”

She pursed her lips. “Do you remember the Sith I spoke of? The one on the holo?”

“Oh, you mean the one our buddy Darok didn’t want you talking about?”

“You noticed that too?” She tapped the side of her mug, but he couldn’t tell if the comment was genuine or sarcastic.

“I’m surprised _you_ did with the way you kept going on.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I was _trying_ to properly debrief after a mission. No one wanted to listen to me.”

“ _I_ was listening,” Theron said, catching her eye. “I’ve been listening to you all day.”

She fixed him with a look. “Why did you not say anything?”

“Because there’s this thing called _subtlety_ ,” he said, “you ever heard of it?”

Her nostrils flared as she snorted out a breath. “Of course I know what subtlety is. What am I supposed to do? Use some sort of secret spy signal to let you know I want to talk?”

He stared at her for several beats, hopefully letting the ridiculousness of that statement sink in. “Yeah, of course you are. It looks like this.”

He used his thumb to trace the shell of his ear in an exaggerated gesture, like some sort of cliché spy from a holodrama. She narrowed her eyes, before quickly mimicking the motion. “Like that?”

Stars. She was just so… so… so… _Whatever_. It didn’t matter what she was. “Yeah. That’s the secret SIS signal for needing to pass along sensitive intel while someone else is listening in.”

“Really?” She tilted her head at him.

Okay, he was going to have to work on broadcasting his sarcasm more clearly. Also, they didn’t have time for this. So he returned to the more important subject at hand. “What did the Sith say?”

“Not much.” Highwind stared into the depths of her mug. “He spoke of a package that had been secured. To a ‘Lord Goh’, I presume that was the Sith I fought in the library. I could not determine what the contents of said package were.”

“I guess they wouldn’t just let that slip,” Theron muttered annoyed, mostly to himself. “Might defeat the purpose of doing their raid.”

“I suppose so,” she allowed. “When the Sith realized I was not his compatriot, he said something odd.”

“Odd how?”

“That I was ‘running a little bit ahead of schedule’.”

“That’s… yes. That’s _very_ odd,” Theron agreed. “Although maybe not so much if the timing wasn’t so much of a coincidence as we’re supposed to believe. Did he say anything else?”

She was quiet for a moment, still staring into the contents of her mug. “When I pressed him on the reason for the attack, he said it was for ‘the vindication of history’. I don’t know what he meant by that… but I _really_ don’t like the sound of it.”

Theron nodded, trying to fit the new snatches of information into the odd picture that was starting to form in his head. There were still too many gaps in the larger picture. He’d have to file them away for now.

“What are we going to do?”

“We?” Theron quirked a brow. “So I take it that means that you don’t want to just hang up that shiny new medal of yours and head on home?”

Her head snapped up at the challenge, for a moment the perfect Jedi calm broken. The brightly colored lights of the cantina threw a strange wash on everything, but the defiant blue of her eyes still shone through clearly. It made for a very striking image. “A Jedi does not have need for bloodstained trinkets.“

He raised his brows. “I’ve seen some that do. Wasn’t sure if you were one of them.”

“I have enough medals,” she leaned forward, meeting his stare.“If you say something is being buried, I would like to know what that is.”

"It’s going to require some digging.”

“The truth usually does,” she said. “I’m out of shovels, but I’ve got a Seeker Droid on my ship that’s really good at digging up things.“

“That might be a bit overkill right now.” Not to mention way too literal. “I think we need to go for a more subtle approach.”

“If that’s what you think.” She leaned back against the cushion of the chair, eyeing him curiously. “What exactly is your line of thought?”

“Well, hypothetically speaking of course, I’d start by making a new friend,” he said casually, “someone I might be able to count on.”

“Friends are a good thing to have.”

“I’m thinking of a _really good_ friend, one who’d be willing to face down the Emperor himself if it came to it,” he said, watching her carefully. “You know of anyone like that?”

At the mention of the Emperor, something flashed across her expression, so quick he almost missed it. Brows drawn together in a deep frown, and something darker in the eyes, but it was gone too fast to tell exactly what had been there.

“I might know of someone,” she said.

“Yes, well, then hypothetically after we exchanged friendship bracelets, I’d go off on my own.”

“That’s not very nice after making a friend.”

“My friend’s a busy lady. I wouldn’t want to bother her until I found out everything I could about Darok and the Sith Lord she talked to.”

“I thought you said you needed help.”

“Hypothetical help, but only after I checked and double-checked all my information and found _all_ the connections.”

“This is a lot of hypotheticals,” she grumbled into her mug.

He couldn’t check the grin at her repressed annoyance. “I like my hypothetical proof.”

“Your new friend must be a very understanding and patient person.”

“I wouldn’t know, I just met her.”

“I do. She has the patience of a Jedi.”

“Fancy that,” he tossed back. “But I might give her a call—”

“Good, she was starting to get lonely drowning in this sea of hypothesis.”

“I’ll toss her a hypothetical lifeline.”

“My hypothetical hero.”

“And then after she stopped being hypothetically sarcastic, I’d see if she’d be ready to get to the bottom of all of this.”

“She’s ready _now_.” Highwind twisted the mug in her hands.

“That’s not being very patient,” he admonished lightly. Despite the gravity of the situation he had to hold back a laugh at the petulant look on her face. “And I’m good, Master Highwind, but I’m not good enough to be able to do all that without leaving this seat.”

“I thought you said we were friends,” she shot back.

“Hypoth—”

“Don’t even think about finishing that word,” she muttered dangerously.

“Fine, we’re ‘friends’.”

“Then drop the formalities, unless you want me to call you ‘ _Agent Shan_ ’ from here on out.”

She made sure to say the last part a few decibels louder than the rest of the sentence. Luckily the cantina was pretty much deserted at this time of day, but he fixed her with a look all the same for attempting to attract attention.

“Now, _Grey_ ,” he lowered his voice in an attempt to get the conversation back under control, “if you’re annoyed you don’t need to shout.”

“I’m not annoyed,” she said, “but I don’t enjoy speaking in vague riddles either.”

“I thought you Jedi loved that.”

Highwind—no, _Grey_ —shot him a look, and he was pretty sure that whatever curiosity she had held for him at the beginning of the conversation had been beaten out by irritation at this point. “It’s been a long, very unexpected day, Theron.”

“Okay, that’s probably fair.” The image of that unguarded moment he’d caught a glimpse of flashed in his mind. He could still see that glimmer on her cheeks, and the way she’d tried to dash them away before anyone else could see. The tiniest hints of something that could have been a thread of guilt wound through his chest and he busied himself with his glass of whiskey. “You did do all the heavy lifting.”

“I had help,” she corrected, and the curious quality of steel and compassion drew his gaze up to see her staring at him resolutely, “and I appreciate that. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

A tiny flare of warmth lit up in his gut, warring with that thread of guilt. He had no idea how to reconcile either of those conflicting feelings, which made it difficult to form a proper response. “I was just doing my job.”

“And it was a good one, judging by the fact that I’m here.” That really shouldn’t have made the little flare heat up into a small fire, but for some stupid reason it did. At least it burned away some of the guilt. “Even without the friendship bracelet, that goes both ways.”

“I don’t follow.”

“If this is off the books,” she leaned forward, voice dropping further, “then you’re going to need backup.”

“I work best alone.”

“That’s not how being ‘friends’ works.”

“I’ll call you once I know something,” he clarified, “but I can sneak around better without you waving your lightsaber for everyone to see.”

“I can always _not_ pull it out.”

“The whole armor and cape getup is kind of a dead giveaway too.” He waved his hand at her attire vaguely. “Besides, I’m just going to do some low-key surveillance and scour the HoloNet. You’d get bored _very_ quick.”

“I can do more than just wave around a lightsaber,” she pointed out.

“I’m sure you’re very talented,” he took a sip of his whiskey, “but not as much as me when it comes to my job.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not overconfident. Nothing bad has ever come from that.”

“Is that sarcasm I detect, Master Jedi? Very unbecoming.”

She pursed her lips together, cheeks turning the slightest shade of red, but didn’t drop that intense gaze. “If you run into trouble, what happens?”

“I’m not,” he said finitely, setting his glass down on the table and rising to his feet. “But I promise to write, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s _not_ what I said—“

“Look, it’s been fun chatting, but I’ve got a shuttle to catch.”

“Aren’t you going to finish your drink?” She pointed to the half-consumed glass of whiskey. A bead of sweat trickled down the side, pooling on the table below it. “Such a waste. The bartender will talk.”

Theron slid a glance to the bartender, who was busy wiping down the bar, then back at the Jedi staring at him placidly. He met her gaze evenly, and grabbed the glass and tossed back the entire contents in one smooth motion. To his credit, he didn’t choke even as the alcohol burned a trail all the way down his throat.

She shrugged at him lightly, and lifted her mug up as if in cheers. “Have a good flight, Theron.”

“See you around,” he tossed back, before slipping away.

If his ears weren’t deceiving him, he thought he might have heard a quiet huff of laughter as he walked away, the whiskey still burning in his throat, and the odd warmth still bubbling in his gut.


	13. Pen Pals

"Hell of a thing,” Jace muttered at the conclusion of Theron’s debrief. “Never thought the Imps would strike Tython.”

Theron shifted his weight, watching as Jace glared at his reflection in the desk. He had no idea if he was meant to respond to that, and if so, exactly what to say to it. It was just the two of them this time, as he was the official SIS liaison on the Korriban op. It was his job to debrief the military on both the Korriban raid and the Tython recovery.

He’d already gone over everything with Marcus Trant. Well… _almost_ everything.

Of all the people in the galaxy to disclose his suspicions to, it made the most sense to do so with his boss. However, Theron knew that the first thing that Marcus would ask for was proof. For the SIS to do anything about Darok, they would first need actual proof he had a role in the attack on Tython outside of the suspicions of one agent. From the Republic’s viewpoint, the colonel was a hero whose quick actions had helped repel an Imperial invasion on one of their Core Worlds. Without evidence, the optics on accusing said hero of high treason were… not good, to put it lightly.

“First Coruscant, now this,” Jace continued on darkly, apparently still mired in his thoughts. “Hate to see the Order go through this again.”

The level of destruction hadn’t been on the exact scale of the Sacking of Coruscant, but was still devastating from the what Theron had witnessed via holo. Agents had already been dispatched to Tython to gather intelligence, and the Director was redirecting resources to the investigation. Even the mountain of data that Theron had managed to scrape from Korriban’s servers was being pushed to the back burner at the moment. It was possible those records contained information about how the Empire had not only managed to get their hands on isotope-5, but also more troubling, how they had managed to weaponize it.

Theron had done the scouting for the initial mission to Makeb, and had done a recent recon of the Aida Sector. Considering the attack on Tython, his suspicions about Darok, and the fact that there was probably a leak in their intelligence somewhere. It made him wonder how much else he’d missed… more than he was comfortable with. And it had gotten a lot of people killed.

“We’re going to find out how this happened,” Theron finally said, pulling the older man out of his dark train of thought.

“Don’t take it personally, son. Sometimes ops go sideways, it’s what you do next that counts.”

There was a part of him that bristled at being called “son” — although in the moment he couldn’t determine if the moniker had been meant literally or more figuratively. Theron really wouldn’t have appreciated it either way, but squashed the rise of irritation. Any long term relationship with the older man, either professional or familial, was going to take a bit of compromise on both sides.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he said, failing to keep the bitter note out of his voice.

“You, Darok, and Highwind are why we have Tython back.”

“ _She_ ’s why we have it back,” Theron corrected firmly. “And her crew. They were the ones on the ground.”

He’d done what he could to help, but… he wasn’t the one that had been in the line of fire. And Darok _definitely_ hadn’t been.

Jace raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. “So, I guess you don’t find her dossier so fictional now?”

“No, she’s very real,” Theron said. “Just different from what I expected.”

“That’s how they get you.” The teasing lilt in his father’s tone was something that was not appreciated. “Take it from me.”

“Uh huh.” Theron didn’t know where Jace was attempting to go with the comment, and had a feeling whatever lay at the end of that conversational detour was something he really didn’t want to explore. So he tried to stay on topic. “She’s capable, I’ll give you that.”

“Capable’s a bit of an understatement — I don’t think I’ve ever seen Saresh authorize anything that fast, much less a Medal of Valor.”

“The paperwork didn’t go through your office then?”

He kept his tone light, as if the answer to his question was really of no importance. Even if he was _very_ interested in exactly how Darok had managed to procure that medal in the timeframe that he had. If Jace had any insight on it, it would chip away a little of the mountain of detective work that Theron had in front of him.

“It was a special case,” Jace said. “I think Saresh wanted to find a way to generate some good news out of this whole ordeal.”

Create a hero before anyone could focus on the disaster too much. That certainly sounded like Saresh. There was another possibility though. That someone _else_ knew that about the Chancellor’s political tendencies, and had someone inside of the Chancellor’s office just waiting for the right moment. If all of the proper paperwork had been filled out ahead of time, an aide might only have to wait for a holocall from Darok so they could fill in the remaining blanks.

“I thought about putting one in for you and Darok, but I figured you’d want to keep a low profile. And Darok refused.”

“Where _is_ the Colonel?”

“Still helping organize the cleanup on Tython. Dedicated soldier, that man.”

An uneasy tingling sensation took up at the base of Theron’s spine, and he studied his father carefully. “Sounds like you know him pretty well.”

“Never served with him directly, but he’s run a lot of operations under my watch.”

Not a close friend, but still had the ear of the Supreme Commander. Made sense. Darok would need the confidence of the main in charge of the Republic military to pull of a hasty covert mission. Even if Theron and Jace had a closer father-son bond like normal families, it would have been useless to mention any suspicions. No. It was obvious Theron was going to have to gather all of his proof before he would be able to bring anyone else in on this. And for that he was going to need to start his surveillance on the colonel.

Jace took Theron’s quick excuses of needing return to his investigation at face value. Although technically they weren’t excuses as he _was_ returning to his investigation — just running a different avenue of it. He decided to head back to his apartment. It would take a little bit of extra work to disguise his electronic trail, but it would be far easier to start a trace on Darok’s activities there. It was considerably more difficult to stay off the radar if he used the main network at the Heorem Complex. For right now, it was best that any inquiries into Darok didn’t show up in official channels.

Maybe it was paranoid, but at this point Theron didn’t know how far the colonel’s influence stretched. Better safe than brought before a board of inquiry (at least before he sniffed out the truth). He still owed the Director an official report on both the Korriban and Tython ops, but that paperwork could wait. Just long enough so that he could lay the groundwork on the _real_ investigation. If Marcus asked, Theron would just say that he could write reports just as easy from his apartment chair than one of the uncomfortable ones in the office.

It took painstaking effort to set up a program to route through the HoloNet and track all of Darok’s activities in such a way that the data trail wouldn’t be traced back to him. The whole process might have gone quicker, but after about the fourth time he coded a line, he had to admit to himself that he was distracted. There was no point in pretending otherwise. With a sigh, he pushed back from his terminal and grabbed the nearest datapad. A few keystrokes later and he’d been able to run a discreet search and corroborate Darok’s whereabouts.

The colonel was on Tython, just like Jace had said. The uneasy sensation that had been distracting Theron’s coding session still lingered, so he made one more inquiry: the current berthing of _The Defender_ and her crew.

Also Tython.

Considering how eager his recruit had been to dig into the investigation, it wouldn’t hurt for him to check in. If she hadn’t run into Darok yet, Theron should give her the heads up — and remind her who was running the intel side of this operation. Without a second thought he pulled up a mail window, and began to write.

> **To:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **From:** Theron Shan  
>  **Subject:** Reconstruction Efforts
> 
> I left the other day before I could inquire into your part in the reconstruction efforts at the Jedi Temple. I’ve seen some holos, and it looks like a lot of work. I heard that our mutual friend might be onsite, but also that he’s a very busy man. You probably shouldn’t bother him if he is there.

He stared at the message for about ten seconds before deciding that was good enough, and hit send. Temporarily mollified, he returned to his coding. It was at least an hour, but he was just on the final part of the trace when he heard a ding from his inbox indicating that he had a new message. He muttered a choice expletive, but pulled his attention away from his work so he could read the missive.

> **To:** Theron Shan  
>  **From:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **Subject:** Slow Progress
> 
> So this is your address? Had you mentioned before leaving, I would have written to let you know about _all_ of the people helping out with the reconstruction efforts here on Tython. It is slow going, but progress is still being made. Most of the Council was away with the war efforts, and even now not all of them can return. I’m afraid I have not been able to keep an eye on everyone as well as I would like, as we are still searching for survivors amongst the rubble. My friends and crew are helping, although I would not say I am on the “friendliest“ terms with everyone here. There has been _quite_ a lot of activity in the library. Seeing as Doc says it would make a good area for triage, I am planning on speaking to the individuals blocking access. I will let you know how my conversation goes.
> 
> Last we spoke, there was also mention of a certain bracelet. I have yet to see this mythical piece of jewelry make an appearance. Let me know if you find it.

Theron nearly missed the last paragraph, as his blood pressure skyrocketed on reading the previous sentence. Without hesitation, he immediately hit reply.

> **To:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **From:** Theron Shan  
>  **Subject:** Patience Is a Virtue
> 
> Have you considered that perhaps the library is structurally unsound? It sounds like whoever is up there might just be part of the engineering crew doing their job. Being that it’s on the second floor, wouldn’t it make more sense for your medic to set up in one of the classrooms on the first floor instead? That way neither of us has to stop what we’re doing to have any _premature_ conversations. It’s always good to have _proof_ before you start accusing anyone — of blocking medical access in this case.
> 
> And I’m pretty sure I mentioned that the bracelet was hypothetical. So you are correct in your categorization of it being mythical.

He sent the message off without even reviewing it, hoping that it was read before she charged in like a raging gundark and started asking questions. He didn’t bother getting back into finishing his query, not until he was sure that she wasn’t going to tip Darok off to their suspicions before Theron even had a chance to start digging. He watched the seconds pass by on the chrono, feeling tension gathering in his shoulders. This was why he worked alone. It was much easier to control the situation if he didn’t have to constantly be riding herd on others.

Finally, mercifully, his mailbox dinged as another message came through.

> **To:** Theron Shan  
>  **From:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **Subject:** Fine
> 
> We’ll use the classroom. I need to go. Someone has just found another body—I think it might be Liam Dentiri. I may have to go bury one of my friends.

Theron stared at the short, clipped message for several long moments, not quite able to untangle the cold sick feeling winding through his gut. He need to stay focused on the larger picture here. If he put too many faces, attached too much emotion to the lives lost he might lose focus. It would be too easy to get lost in the fact that every single person slain in both of the conflicts had a larger, wider effect on the world around them. That they weren’t just numbers. Numbers were easy to look past. Names weren’t. As evidenced by Dentiri’s continuing to pop up, even now. He could still hear the pain and rage in Kira’s voice ringing over the comm. Couldn’t completely banish the image of Highw— _Grey_ —trying to brush away the evidence of her grief.

How many other names were on that fatality list? How many more people were mourning friends or loved ones tonight? With no answers for why beyond the grind of an endless war. No hope for justice or an end to their pain, just the endless call to press onwards.

Theron rubbed his forehead, tension mounting near his cranial implants as he stared cross-eyed at the screen in front of him. He needed to get back to work and finish those last few lines of code, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the “reply” button. Finally, he hit it, if for nothing else than to get rid of those four sentences burning a hole through him.

> **To:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **From:** Theron Shan  
>  **Subject:** Condolences
> 
> Sometimes I can get too caught up with trying to see the big picture sometimes, and I miss smaller details. Which I shouldn’t, because rooting out the tiny details are part of my job. That came out wrong. What I mean is that you once called Tython your home. It wasn’t ever mine.
> 
> What I’m working on will take some time, but I’ll stay in touch. In the meantime, obviously you do whatever you need to do over there.
> 
> I’m sorry about your friend.

He hit send and ran a hand through his hair, and the cursor on his terminal continued to blink at him. As if trying to tell him that he still had the last bit of coding to finish. Instead he continued to stare at his inbox, all the while wondering what the hell was wrong with him.


	14. The Lost Bracelet of Darth Lahvvish

The report didn’t get finished that night, but his automated trace on Darok did. It would help monitor most public and low-security information. Any high-clearance snooping was a manual process systems had been put in place to prevent automated data mining. Several of which were of his own design after he’d found the flaws several years back.

Of course, having such an intimate knowledge of the SIS systems helped him keep off the radar, as long as he kept a clear head about him. It also helped that his official assignment was to assist with the investigation on finding out how the Imps had managed to get to Tython. Which he was, just… splitting his attention some.

Officially, none of it led to Darok, which was frustrating, but not to be unexpected. Thus far, Theron had been able to identify two leaks associated with the attack on Tython, but had several more flagged for follow-up. The first was the Sith capture of a Jedi Archivist that worked in the Tython library, and the other was an ignored report from a cargo pilot that frequented the temple regarding the theft of a manifest that included information on her route and the hyperlanes.

These leaks mirrored his own datamining into the Korriban op too closely for his own comfort. If he were a suspicious man, which he was, he would suspect that the information he had found had been planted. By someone leaving just enough bread crumbs for a clever enough intelligence operative to put the pieces together. If that was the case, someone had used the SIS, and more specifically _him,_ in whatever this was.

His implants pinged him with an alert from his automated trace, cutting through his sour mood. Seeing that it was a passenger manifest of a flight departing Tython, he pulled away form the terminal he’d been manning most of the day and surreptitiously pulled out his datapad to review the passenger list. It appeared that Darok was leaving the Temple, and his current destination looked like it was Carrick Station.

Theron was about to do some minor slicing into the colonel’s schedule to see exactly what he had planned, when he got an inbox notification.

> **To:** Theron Shan  
>  **From:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **Subject:** HI!
> 
> Heya Spyboy—we haven’t met officially, but the boss asked me to write to you from this address. (I’m Kira, I’m sure you’ve read about me. I hear you have a file on all of us! What does mine say?) She got pulled away with a meeting with the Pilgrim Matriarch. Or a hugfest, not really sure what’s going on over there. Anyway, she wanted me to let you know right away that some ‘mutual friend’ of you two had to leave the planet on a meeting?
> 
> Good riddance I say. He was cramping our style. Scourge almost started a lightsaber fight with one of his men when they kept blocking the door to the Archives. But this is Scourge, so it could just be Taungsday.
> 
> Okay, I’m getting a look now, so maybe this letter was supposed to be shorter. I promise I’ve only looked at like all of your messages to her. What’s this about a mythological bracelet? Are you two going treasure hunting? Can I come? I promise to bring snacks.

Theron couldn’t suppress a groan, massaging his forehead as he read the contents of the message. He had only just gotten to the end of it, when another notification pinged.

> **To:** Theron Shan  
>  **From:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **Subject:** Apologies
> 
> Apparently my former Padawan can’t be trusted with the simple task of writing a sentence and pressing the send button. I got pulled away in the middle of my message and asked her to finish it since I thought it was important to keep you updated on… our “friend’s” whereabouts. Clearly my inbox was too great a temptation for her to pass up.

  


> **To:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **From:** Theron Shan  
>  **Subject:** Really?
> 
> I’m making the bold assumption this message is being read by its intended recipient now, and that you’ve changed all of your security protocols and passcodes? And that in the future you won’t be handing off future dictation requests to your nosy secretary?
> 
> I’m aware of our our friend’s movements, and if there’s anything noteworthy _I_ will let _you_ know. I trust you’ll also inform me if I need to be aware of any incidents between your crew and SpecOps? Things that, say, might hamper my efforts on this end?
> 
> You should probably also let Kira know that we’re not going on a treasure hunt. I think she was far too excited about that.

He stared at the screen for a few moments, debating whether he should ask about Dentiri. Seeing as she hadn’t brought it up, he decided against it, and just pressed send before he thought on it too long. Besides, he didn’t intend to start a letter writing campaign here. His time was better spent on the investigation—both the official one he was conducting and the private one.

Of course, if he didn’t want a reply, he shouldn’t have asked any questions.

> **To:** Theron Shan  
>  **From:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **Subject:** Yes Really
> 
> There was nothing _noteworthy_ to report on this end regarding my crew’s interactions with SpecOps. We’re simply trying to do what we can right now, and _most_ of the Republic forces arriving are of great help. We will likely be called away soon, but I’m hoping that some members of the Council will arrive before then. No offense to the military, but I would feel more comfortable leaving with one of the Order’s leaders in charge. I hope we do not have to miss the memorial service, but a Jedi must go where they are needed most.
> 
> Until then, I will await your reply of these “noteworthy” revelations.
> 
> I have also informed Kira that there will be no hunt for the Lost Bracelet of Darth Lahvvish. I have never heard of this Sith nor know why she was so careless with her jewelry, but I don’t want to ask. Kira seems crushed enough as it is.
> 
> However, maybe you should look into the mystery, since you’ve got access to all of those special databases to know where everyone is at all times. Maybe they can give you the clue to the location of the missing Bracelet of Fellowship, last seen in the Sea of Hypothesis? Just a thought.

“Hey, Shan, you okay there? You look like you’re having a stroke.”

“What?” Theron was torn away from the datapad to see Jonas Balkar’s stupid smirking face leaning into his cubicle.

“Well, that or you might be starting to form a smile, and I know _that’s_ not physically possible.”

“Shut it, Balkar.” He quickly stowed the datapad away before it attracted the other agent’s attention. “What are you doing here? Thought you were living it up on Nar Shaddaa.”

“Trant pulled me back, said he needed more eyes on this Tython thing and wanted the best.”

“I think you got the memo meant for _me_. You can run back along to playing nice with the Hutts.”

“Pass.” Jonas sauntered over, throwing an arm around Theron’s shoulders. “Now, since it’s quitting time and your old buddy’s back in town—“

“We’re not buddies.”

“—I say it’s high time we go get a drink.”

“I’m not—“

Jonas apparently wasn’t listening and already in the mood for a good hangover. Using his grip on the other man’s shoulders, he propelled his fellow agent towards the door. Sure, Theron _could_ have popped the other man’s arm out of its socket and reclaimed his personal space and evening plans of spying on Darok… but he really didn’t want to have that conversation with Marcus _again_.

“Fine,” Theron muttered darkly, “ _one_ drink. But if this winds up being another one of your stupid schemes, I’m going to rearrange that pretty face so all the girls run away at their first look at you.”

“No need to get possessive, Shan. You’ll always be my number one.”

“Bite me, Balkar.”


	15. Happy Hour

“Now, to be fair,” Jonas said, holding the glass filled with mostly ice, and a thin layer of Corellian’s finest up to the rapidly purpling bruise on his face, “no one could have seen this happening.”

Theron glared across the table at his fellow agent before promptly knocking back a shot of the most expensive whiskey he could find on the bar’s menu, since Jonas was now most _definitely_ picking up the tab. The alcohol stung against his split lip, but he just glared through the discomfort, focusing all of his ire on the man in front of him. “I should have. _You_ should have. And apparently the surliest Houk this side of Tatooine _did_.”

“I’ll have you know, my Sabacc deck is perfectly legal in just about every circle the game is played.”

“Except apparently the Dealer’s Den,” Theron said sourly.

“This is a much nicer cantina anyway,” Jonas sniffed.

“The nice cantinas turned us away.”

“Yes, but this place has _character_. You just don’t get that these days.”

“I’m never drinking with you again.”

“Never say never.”

“ _Never_ ,” Theron said emphatically.

“Well, in that case,” Jonas gave out a dramatic sigh, “if this is our last drink together ever, we might as well make it a good one. Bartender, two Whyren’s Reserve, neat.”

The bartender just laughed. “You’re a riot, kid!”

“Okay, then just another round of the best of whatever won’t kill us in one sip.”

“So two more of what you’re having right now?”

“Yes, _extra_ ice please.”

“You really know how to treat a guy, Balkar.” Theron rolled his eyes.

“Has anyone ever told you that you need to lighten up?”

“This one guy, but he keeps getting my face punched in. So I don’t think I should listen to him.”

“I’m just keeping your life exciting.”

“My life was _already_ exciting. And somehow, filled with less bruises.”

“Now _that’s_ a lie.” Jonas took a sip from his drink, getting just the smallest dregs of whiskey through the thick layer of ice. “Half of the times that I’ve seen you your face has looked like some abstract art concept.”

“Um, thanks?”

“To be honest, I’m surprised I was able to recognize you today, what with the lack of blood stains and black eyes. This look now is more you.”

“I do _not_ get injured that often,” Theron said testily, then added a muttered, “and I just haven’t gotten a lot of field work lately.”

“Yeah, promotions _suck_.” The sarcasm practically dripped from the other agent’s voice. “Although, you have to admit, you’ve been keeping some awful interesting company lately.”

Theron slid a glance up from his glass to see a grin on the other man’s face, rather than the frown that he had expected. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I know for a fact you were involved with the Tython op.” Jonas picked up his glass, and swirled around the ice cubes and minuscule amounts of whiskey. He went to take a sip and frowned when nothing came out. “And also saw that the Jedi’s poster girl was the main operative there.”

“Oh. Her.”

“Thought that I’d get more of a reaction than that, but I forgot who I was talking to for a moment.”

Their conversation paused as the bartender sat two more glasses down at the table, and Theron quickly reached across the table and grabbed the one filled to the brim, leaving the one that was mostly frozen water for his companion.

“Hey—”

“You wanted the ice. I prefer to actually taste the alcohol.”

“Why do I ever take you drinking? Those damn implants make it nearly impossible to get you drunk.”

“That’s the _point_.”

“You’re an expensive date is all I’m saying,” Jonas grabbed his own glass and pulled it back, “and all I get from the deal is sass.”

“Then stop inviting me.”

“Invitation means someone accepts without being forced out the door. Seriously, you’re more trouble than you’re worth at times.”

“I think you just want a human shield when the punches start flying.”

“Well, that too.” Jonas raised his glass and paused before taking a sip. “And that’s all you’re going to say about the Jedi?”

“What else is there to say?”

“From the way Fauler and the others keep going on whenever they pull her in on ops, I figured there’d be _something_ noteworthy, even from you.”

“Why do you care?” Theron asked, tracing the rim of his glass with a finger. “Angling for an introduction?”

“Just wondering if I should keep the name in mind for future ops is all.”

“I thought Havoc was your go-to squad,” Theron mused. “Or is the Major not picking up your holocalls anymore?”

“I like to have extra options,” Jonas said lightly, “you never know when you might need a Jedi to open a few doors. With the Force. She’s pretty, right?”

“She’s a _Jedi_.”

“Yes, and some of us don’t hold that against them.” Jonas looked thoughtful. “Pretty sure I could charm even a Jedi.”

“Pretty sure she’d just kick your ass if you tried to put the moves on her.” Theron’s finger stilled as he narrowed an eyebrow.

“Hmm, maybe not my type then,” the other man flashed him a wide grin, “although that’s what you like, isn’t it?”

“There’s not enough whiskey in this bar to get me to answer that.”

“Hey, just saying I haven’t seen you with anyone who couldn’t easily kill you without a second thought. You really ought to lighten up, in _every_ aspect of your life.”

“You haven’t seen me with _anyone_ ,” Theron corrected. “Some of us like to be a bit more discreet than you.”

“Oh, drink your whiskey, sourpuss. It costs a small fortune to go out with you.”

“Maybe if you stopped using my face as shield for incoming fists then you wouldn’t feel so guilty that you wind up paying for drinks for the rest of the night.”

“Maybe if you stopped _jumping_ in front of the incoming fists you’d have a few less black eyes,” Jonas shot back. “But point taken.”

Theron let his gaze drop back down to the overly full glass. He eyed the amount of alcohol and weighed it in his mind against the amount his implants could easily dampen the effects of. It would help dull some of the pain of his bruises, but he could easily shove that aside with a few tricks from his childhood training. The fact that he still needed to check into what Darok was up to on Carrick Station had been at the back of his mind for the whole evening, but he couldn’t exactly start that delicate of a slicing job while Jonas was watching.

He reached across the table and swiped Jonas’s glass of ice and poured about half the contents of his glass in, before returning it to the other side of the table. His fellow agent raised an eyebrow at him curiously.

“Getting sentimental on me, Shan?”

“Figured you haven’t looked in a mirror yet, so that’s just to help soften the blow.”

“I’m sure I look dashing still.” Jonas accepted the glass though. “You seem more sullen than usual tonight. Something up?”

“No,” he said and quickly took a sip from his glass, “just trying to sort through this mess from Tython.”

“Yeah,” the usually cheery demeanor slipped away then, and a shadow of Jonas’s real face surfaced for just a moment, “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. Thought we had the Imps on the run, then this…”

Theron nodded, eyeing the other agent over the rim of his glass. It was probably the alcohol, but he found himself asking. “You haven’t seen or heard anything… weird lately, right?”

“Weird?” Jonas snapped out of his reverie, and gave Theron a look. “You’re going to have to be more specific, considering the galaxy we both live in.”

“Never mind,” Theron muttered into his next sip of whiskey. “Forget I asked.”

The other man frowned, eyeing his fellow agent speculatively. “I haven’t seen anything that’s caught my attention, if that’s what you’re asking. Should I be looking?”

“I don’t know.” He set his glass down a little harshly, the clunk of the impact sounding louder to his own ears. “It’s probably nothing.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Jonas said quietly. “If anything pops that doesn’t fit, I’ll let you know.”

Theron nodded. He didn’t want to bring Jonas into this thing, hell, it was bad enough he’d recruited one of the most famous Jedi in the Order on his paranoid hunt. Wrangling her was proving difficult enough, and he really didn’t want to to add Jonas and his questionable “charm” into the mix. An extra set of eyes on the official investigation for the odd bit that didn’t fit couldn’t hurt anything. It probably wouldn’t be enough to catch Darok officially, but it couldn’t hurt either.

Jonas raised his glass for a toast, and Theron begrudgingly raised his as well. There would be no slicing tonight it seemed.

“To Tython,” Jonas said.

“To Tython,” Theron echoed, and then mentally added. _You bastards are going to pay_.


	16. Data Mining

As far as targets went, Rian Darok was proving to be an exceptionally dull one. The contents of his schedule turned out to be incredibly mundane, as it just consisted of meetings with other SpecOps officers. Once he returned to Coruscant, there had been a brief hope that would uncover the proverbial smoking blaster. However, it seemed to lead to just more meetings, and an interminable amount of time spent in front of a data terminal searching for nothing of interest whatsoever.

The low-profile made sense, though. If Darok had a hand in what happened with Tython, that kind of thing would have taken a lot of time to plan out. Theron had tried scrubbing through the man’s personnel files on his breaks, but it was spotless. There was zero indication that Darok was anything but a loyal citizen of the Republic, and had no reason to collude with the Empire. In fact, he probably had more reason than most soldiers to hold a grudge. In fact, according to his personnel record, he probably had more reason than most soldiers to hold a grudge. He was the sole survivor of an Imperial attack on the Dorin’s Sky while it had been serving in the Nanth’ri System...

The location gave Theron pause, and he stared at Darok’s file. The galaxy was a big place, and seasoned veterans would have served all over the map, but that particular system was familiar. Wasn’t that the same system where Revan had fallen to an Imperial strike team? That same funny feeling that had been haunting him since this whole thing had started crept up again, starting at the base of his spine and slowly crawling its way up, until every hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It was circumstantial at best but… it was _odd_ how connections to Revan kept popping up. First with Jensyn, and now Darok.

If he didn’t know better, he’d almost suspect they had some little secret club. Of course, that didn’t make much sense. Revan was dead, and all of these connections were just… coincidence. Funny. The timing of the attacks on Tython and Korriban were supposed to be coincidences too.

He glared at Darok’s file, but it didn’t yield any further insights or secrets.

The Tython investigation was beginning to wrap up, and Trant had begun to redirect resources. The Analytics Division was moving on from post-mortem reports to dig into the data that Theron had managed to extract from Korriban during the strike team’s raid. Of course, that wasn’t sitting well with Theron either. _His_ data was clean, he knew that, but the intel that had started all of this mess, the one that they’d raided Korriban for had yet to be turned over to the SIS yet.

The last time Theron had asked the Director about it, the face that Marcus had made would have been almost comical. Almost, because a lot of people had died for that data, and now it was apparently lost in some military bureaucracy. Theron considered calling in a favor from dear old dad, see if maybe he could grease the wheels. But that might call too much attention to the fact that Theron was _very_ interested in the origins of all of this.

So unless he wanted to try and involve more people in his crazy conspiracy chase, it was best that he not attract to much attention. He still hadn’t found any proof yet to sound an alarm, just a bunch of odd coincidences and interesting pieces of trivia with nothing to connect them all together. He stared at the terminal in front of him, absently tapping his finger on the keys.

Highwind had reported that Darok, or some men under his direction, had been unusually interested in the Jedi’s library. Theron pulled up the official investigation into the Tython attack. He tried to scan through the findings, but only found reports on destruction, compromised terminals, and some missing artifacts.

With a glance to his surroundings, he slipped out the private datapad he’d been conducting his own personal investigation on, and did a quick check on the current whereabouts of _The Defender_. It appeared that she’d been called back into duty to help mediate a dispute of succession for House Barnaba in the Tapani sector. He tapped the bezel of the datapad, wondering if it was too soon to say anything, considering he hadn’t uncovered anything yet. The nagging thought about the Archives wouldn’t leave him, so he pulled up his empty inbox, and began to compose a message:

> **To:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **From:** Theron Shan  
>  **Subject:** Nothing Noteworthy Yet
> 
> I wish I could say I’ve found something, but it’s been a slow two weeks since I last wrote. The life of a SpecOps commander is apparently very mundane most of the time, filled with meetings, meetings, and more meetings. And when not meeting, apparently they’re in front of a terminal cruising the HoloNet. I’d say your taxes at work, but you don’t really take a salary do you? Still, you get that fancy ship, so I guess that’s something.
> 
> I’ve been knee deep in this investigation on Tython. There’s a lot of data on damage inflicted, suggestions for beefing up security, how security failed, and what was taken. It’s a lot, is what I’m saying, and I’m still sorting through it. I keep thinking about our mutual friend and the library though, and what might have been so interesting there. Just trying to find some correlation between that and what we’ve gotten from Korriban.
> 
> Just to keep busy mind you, since our buddy is boring me keeping such a low profile. You ever hear anything interesting about that before your trip to Barnaba?

He stared at the letter for a few moments, recalling the previous communication he’d received, and added one last bit:

> I also feel the need to let you know that as vast as they are, the SIS databases aren’t all-knowing. There’s a lot of entries on famous pieces of jewelry around the galaxy, but nothing about this bracelet you keep bringing up. Still want me to keep looking?

Satisfied, he sent off the letter, and stowed the datapad away for now. He’d have to wait for answers, and in the meantime, had to close out the official report on Tython.

* * *

When he’d mentioned that the intel side of his job was boring, he wasn’t kidding. There was a lot of snooping, and occasionally some fast-paced running, but there was a lot of waiting that wound up happening between discoveries. The first one came in via official channels, an intel request from Darok on "Isotope-5 Proliferations and Deployment in the Empire". Theron was pretty familiar with the contents of that already, and it made perfect sense for the colonel to be requesting it considering the devastation wreaked by the Iso-5 bombs on Tython.

The second one came to him as he was getting himself another cup of caf from the community carafe, although the sudden arm flung around his shoulders made him nearly spill his drink. Theron at first thought he was being assaulted, and it was only his quick recognition of who the arm belonged to that saved its owner from having his face shoved into the wall.

“Shan,” Jonas exclaimed, “why haven’t we gone out again?”

“Because you’re still banned from the Dealer’s Den for cheating?”

“I do not cheat!” Jonas proclaimed loudly, then leaned close. Theron felt something being slid into his pocket and heard a quick whisper. “This qualified as weird for me. Mind telling me what you’re up to?”

Theron shot him a glance and shook his head minutely, and then made a show of elbowing him away. “You might be right, I hear there might be a _crooked_ dealer there.”

“I don’t like to _accuse_ people of cheating without _proof_ ,” Jonas said carefully. “Being wrong about that’s almost as bad as cheating itself.”

“As I said, I just heard, never _confirmed_.”

Jonas pressed his lips together in a thin line, a little concern surfacing through his cheery facade. “I’ve got to run to Denon, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it for a rematch at Dealer’s Den for a while.”

“That’s too bad,” Theron said casually, “I wouldn’t mind having another go myself.”

“I’m not a fan of drinking alone, Shan. Gets rather lonely. You really shouldn’t either.”

“I’m touched by your concern for my social life, Balkar, but I’ll be fine.”

“I’m more concerned about that face jumping in front of more incoming fists. Or maybe getting a vibro-knife in the back. _Bar fights_ can easily get out of hand.”

“Funny how that doesn’t stop you from getting into them when I’m around.”

“That’s because we’re _both_ there,” the joking edge from Jonas’s tone was rapidly fading away. “I’m just saying, it’s not a good idea to take on heavy hitters without someone backing you up.”

It probably had been too much to hope that Jonas wouldn’t get some clue of what Theron was doing in his off time after their last drinking session. It was clear that his occasional partner was not going to let this drop, and if he kept the conversation going too long it was going to attract attention.

“What if I took a date?”

“I might get jealous if you start running around on me with another drinking partner. Does he have a good right hook?”

Theron shrugged. “Hers is better than yours, that’s for sure.”

“Her?” Jonas’s eyebrows shot up, intrigued. “This the same girl we talked about last time?”

“Could be.”

“Well, in that case I _guess_ I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it? What are you, my keeper?”

“When you’re being a careless idiot? Yes,” Jonas ground out. “You don’t always look both ways before leaping into oncoming traffic.”

“I’m always careful, and I’m never an idiot,” he corrected.

“You still leap into traffic, though.”

“Have to get across the street somehow. Crosswalks are boring.”

“You’re the worst sort of pedestrian.” Jonas shook his head, and then fixed Theron with a hard, serious look. “Just watch yourself, okay?”

“Don’t I always?”

“No,” he said, “that’s why I’m saying it. Don’t make me find another drinking buddy, Shan.”

“I already told you, we’re not bud—”

Jonas cut him off with a glare, and the usual retort died on Theron’s lips. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and let out a sigh. “Fine. We’ll get another round next time we’re both in town. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Jonas said flatly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with the least chatty person in the Denon system. Can’t be late for that.”

“Have fun,” Theron intoned as his fellow agent left as quickly as he came, leaving Theron alone with his caf.

He glanced around, sipping from his mug and making his way back to the data terminal he’d staked out. As he sat down, he fingered what had been slipped into his pocket, marking out the familiar shape of a data chip. Considering the ruckus Jonas had made, it would be best to look at it in the relative privacy of his apartment.

The rest of the hours dragged by, as he found it hard to focus. His eyes kept straying to the chronometer at his station, as his mind kept straying to the data chip and Jonas’s ill-concealed concerns. He’d tossed Highwind’s name in the conversation to get the other man to back down, but he still wasn’t sure exactly what role the Jedi should play in all of this. She’d provide ample muscle if he needed to make a show of force, but he still had to wonder about her reliability.

She’d been all too eager to throw in with him to uncover the truth behind the attack on Tython, but enthusiasm didn’t earn any extra points with him. If anything, it only puzzled him more. He’d expected a far more grizzled, no-nonsense Jedi from what he’d read in her dossier, and he’d seen some hints of a more battle-hardened personality emerging when she was leading the strike teams. There almost seemed to be a different person that emerged when the pressure wasn’t on. He wouldn’t describe that as _normal_ , because she came across far too earnest and almost compassionate to a fault. When he tried to mesh those observations with her record, including the curious gaps and sparse mission details that smelled of a coverup—he was just left with more questions.

Theron didn’t like questions, as it meant he was lacking intel. And not having the right answers could get him killed in the wrong situation. It was hard to say if this was one of those cases, as he tended to lean on the more paranoid side of things. It still bugged him, though. He preferred to know exactly what and who he was dealing with. Maybe if he’d known more about Darok before taking on the Korriban op, things would be very different right now.

His eyes strayed back to the chrono, watching as another minute ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace, and he tried to calculate the time that had passed since his last missive to _The Defender_. The previous replies had come in rather quick, but he was already nearing seven days without a response. It didn’t bother him exactly, as it was obvious that there were more important things for a Jedi Knight to be doing than checking her inbox constantly. And considering the six-month gap in her dossier, her being out of contact wasn’t exactly an abnormal occurrence.

Maybe after he looked at whatever Jonas had dug up, Theron would check in on the HoloNet and see what was happening in the Tapani Sector.

Just out professional curiosity. That was all it was.


	17. Connecting the Dots

As soon as he was inside the door of his apartment, Theron had the chip out of his pocket and inserted it into his datapad. The first file on it wasn’t any official SIS document at all but apparently a note, written especially for him:

> So here I am, minding my own business, when this intel request comes across my desk from none other than your old buddy, Rian Darok. I pulled it, but then I asked myself, what does a SpecOps officer need with this information? From what I can tell, cracking down on cargo smuggling isn’t the highest of priorities for him and his team. I pulled a copy for you too, since you’re so interested in “oddities” right now. I don’t know what you think is going on, but you know this guy has clout right? And not just in SpecOps. Watch yourself. — JB

Theron tried not to roll his eyes as he paged to the next file on the chip. Jonas was a good man to have along on a mission, but sometimes he could get hung up on something. Apparently in this case it was the havoc that Rian Darok could cause for an unsuspecting SIS Agent. Which wouldn’t be a problem, because Theron was suspecting everything right now. Which was probably good for his survival chances in the short term, but would probably give him hypertension if he ever lived long enough to see old age.

He scanned over the pulled file, but as Jonas said it was… just odd.

"Known Smugglers: Inner Rim" was just what it said. A giant list of cargo smugglers that operated in the Inner Rim. And by giant, he meant several thousands names. It would take far too long for him to cross-reference every name by hand. He was going to need to get creative on this.

He sat down at the terminal in his apartment, and began to start typing. The programming required to cross-reference the names against what he knew about the Korriban and Tython ops was complex, and he had to be very careful to hide his trail in case it dinged anything classified. The SIS didn’t keep it’s data on the HoloNet, but it definitely had its own hooks into the system. If he needed to do a deeper search on any of the names of the list, he could do that manually, but he needed to narrow this down to something manageable, otherwise he could be chasing a dead lead for months.

The chronometer had already ticked well past midnight, and he was nearing the end of his coding efforts when his implants alerted him to a new message in his inbox. He finished his train of thought, then pulled away from the data terminal, feeling his muscles protest at the motion after being hunched into one position for so long. Scooping up his forgotten datapad, he opened up his inbox to see who had written.

> **To:** Theron Shan  
>  **From:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **Subject:** Late Reply
> 
> I must apologize for the delayed reply. Our latest mission hit a slight snag, and I only now have had time to catch up on my correspondence. Barnaba is a very lovely travel spot, as long as you don’t mind the occasional internal spat between royal houses. Kira wants to buy a timeshare here. She says that it would be a fun vacation spot. I tried to remind her we don’t collect a salary (as you accurately pointed out), but Doc nixed the idea before I could, saying this visit gave him too much work already and doesn’t want any more gray hairs. He can be a bit vain at times but is probably right in this case.
> 
> It sounds like you have been keeping yourself busy as well, even if it was perhaps less exciting work. Did you ever find what you were looking for in all of that data? I don’t know if it helps, but in a letter about the ongoing reconstruction efforts at the temple, the Grand Master mentioned a missing Rakata artifact. I unfortunately didn’t have much time to spend in the archives during our initial reconstruction efforts, but I didn’t see any artifacts tucked under anyone’s arm while they were leaving. Perhaps it was extracted during the original raid? I must confess, if the Council was hiding a piece of Rakata technology, then they did not want it falling into the wrong hands. In my own experience it is rarely used for benevolent purposes.
> 
> If the artifact was included in the SIS’s reports, I wonder if it is mentioned there the exact nature of the device. I could enquire further with Master Satele regarding it, but I am afraid I am not very good at concealing the truth from her in matters such as these. It is probably best if I don’t attempt it unless you think it’s necessary.
> 
> I think I hear my self-appointed keeper returning. I must wrap this up before he confiscates this datapad as well. I will continue to wait to see if you discover anything considered “noteworthy”.
> 
> I have a feeling you will know exactly where to find me.

As he finished the letter, Theron couldn’t help the frown. A missing piece of Rakata tech definitely could have been among the missing items. He’d have to check into the official report, but it would take a few extra steps to keep his name from showing up on the logs since they’d closed out the investigation. Surely the Empire wouldn’t have conducted an entire raid in the heart of the Republic for just one artifact. Surely their resources would have been better directed elsewhere. The more he tried to fit the pieces of all of this together, the less this made sense. There was something else going on here, he just wasn’t connecting the right dots.

He glanced back at the data terminal, his back screaming in protest at the thought of returning to the hunched over position so soon. He began to perform a series of exercises to try and stretch out the kinks, carefully balancing the datapad so he could re-read the contents of the letter again as if it might magically answer any of the questions it raised. As he focused on the details to see if he missed anything regarding the artifact, the reason for the delay in reply started to prickle at him. The letter had definitely been written with far more reserve than the previous ones.

As he finally worked free the knot in his lower back, he pulled up the HoloNet and ran a search on news articles for the Tapani sector. He didn’t need to look far to find the buzz about a daring rescue of an entire orphanage from the nefarious plot of a rogue minor house trying to curry favor with the losing house in the Barnabas succession. They apparently took the building as a hideout concealing a hidden stash of weapons and had planted dentonite around the perimeter. All orphans had safely been pulled from the exploding building and while the article didn’t say there was going to be a statue erected in a certain Jedi’s honor, Theron half expected it to. He was already scrubbing a hand across his face by the time he got to the end. Beyond being possibly the most disgustingly cliched do-gooder he’d ever met, the woman was a giant flashing neon sign that attracted attention wherever she went. What the hell had he been thinking bringing her in on this? There was no way they were going to remain under the radar if she stopped what she was doing every five seconds to rescue kath pups and nexu kittens.

He opened up a new message, and stared at it for a few moments before he began writing out his reply:

> **To:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **From:** Theron Shan  
>  **Subject:** Interesting
> 
> I’m sure the life of a Jedi Knight is very busy, especially one that seems to wind up on the top of the HoloNet News feed as often as you do. It’s understandable that you can’t always reply to every piece of mail you get right away. Although I do admit I was thinking I’d hear back sooner than a week.
> 
> But your reply, even delayed, is appreciated. I hadn’t gotten far sifting through the data, but I’m going to double-check the report when I get in tomorrow to see if I can find the piece of tech you mentioned in the log. If the Council had it locked up, I doubt they were willing to share with the SIS the exact nature of the device. But hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and everyone will have been in a sharing mood. Hope springs eternal right?
> 
> Speaking of the Council, I think you’re right in that we should probably not share anything with the Grand Master right now. All I have right now are threads and suspicions, but nothing concrete. We need to figure out what’s going on before anyone’s going to take us seriously. I’m getting there, but it’s slow going. I’ve gotten some leads on Darok, but they’re just… odd. He’s started requesting intel, like on the weaponization of the Iso-5 on Tython. That makes sense. My other lead is just confusing, and I’ve got no idea what it means. I was actually working on it when your message came. If anything comes from it, I’ll let you know.

Theron stared at the blinking cursor, trying decide if he should end it there, but something was still nagging at him. Rescued orphans aside, there was nothing in the report that indicated why it took her an entire week to check her inbox, seeing as that incident had occurred almost five days ago. It was none of his damn business and he didn’t _care_. He really didn’t. Not beyond keeping an eye on a potentially valuable asset for his operation. Still, it felt as if he didn’t quite have control over his fingers typing out the last portion of his reply.

> Now, it’s not my business or anything, but in my line of work I’m used to reading between the lines. I couldn’t help but notice you mentioning everything but exactly what delayed your reply. If I do find something, are you going to be up to joining my investigation? Or do I need to write your medic for permission first? Hopefully you managed to hide that datapad from him successfully enough so you don’t have to smuggle another one just to check your mail.
> 
> I’ve got to finish running down this other lead before I call it a night. If I find anything new, I’ll be in touch. Try not to blow yourself up rescuing another orphanage in the meantime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this chapter, we have officially caught up to everything I've written, so the rest of this will probably take a bit longer to come out. There's probably about elevenish chapters left in this bad boy by my estimate... if the characters decide to stick to my outline that is.


	18. Burning the Midnight Oil

The Heorum Complex technically stayed open twenty-four hours a day, because intelligence work never slept. However, the office experience varied wildly depending on the time of day. In the daytime, it was abuzz with activity. Agents sat at terminals working through reports and intel, analysts dutifully sorted through the steady stream of data being fed in from across the galaxy, and all the office support staff bustled about in the typical work day grind. The aroma of fresh-brewed caf would sometimes waft from the various kitchenettes and a constant background buzz of chatter filled most of the rooms.

Nighttime was a decidedly different mood. Darkened terminals and stations replaced the bustle of workers, doused in shadow after the overhead lights switched off for the evening. The shadows of the abandoned desks and chairs stretched across the empty rooms, like long, spindly fingers reaching out. The hum of constant chatter gave way to the clank and hum as the cleaner droids made their rounds on each floor. The sharp, antiseptic scent of the droids’ cleaning solution would overpower everything else. It was almost as sharp and jolting as a steaming mug of caf, although not nearly as pleasant to take in.

If Theron were being honest, a steaming mug of caf wouldn’t go amiss right now. He needed to focus and had a long, grueling task ahead of him.

Tonight wouldn’t be the first night that he’d lost track of time and been the last one out — although the previous instances were unintentional. Today he’d made a show of getting too absorbed in his assignment; decoding some intercepted transmissions from an Imperial base that Marcus wanted a rush on. Theron had cracked the cipher earlier in the day, but feigned ignorance to draw out his time on the terminal as long as possible. He’d grabbed a station in the far corner of the room where no one could easily sneak up on him and spy the second set of coding he was working on.

Getting into the backdoor of the SIS mainframe was a tough task — as it should be. Technically, Theron shouldn’t have been able to do it himself, but it seemed like every time they closed up one vulnerability, he would nose out another exploit. He’d report this one… just as soon as he wrapped up here. Now, technically he still had access to these files via normal channels, but that would have left a record of him looking into a closed investigation. He needed to keep his inquiries into Darok off the radar until he found the proverbial smoking barrel. Meaning he needed to be very careful about what network activities they could trace back to him. 

Most of his work during the day had been meticulously finishing his code. He’d kept the decryption up just in case any nosy coworkers wanted to stop by for a chat, although most seemed content to leave him be. Jonas once told Theron that he got a certain look in his eye when he was “getting obsessed with a job” — whatever _that_ meant. Of course, Jonas was always saying things like that. Theron was pretty sure his fellow agent made half of it up just to get a reaction.

No matter.

As the chrono edged past the hour and the whir of the cleaning droids faded into background noise, Theron decided he was truly alone. He dropped his subterfuge and used his backdoor to access the data on the Tython and Korriban investigations. With Highwind’s clue in mind, he pulled up the archived security footage from the Jedi Temple. The recovery team managed to save several recordings in addition to what Theron had during the operation. He used Highwind’s liberation of the temple as his starting point and slowly rewound the footage. Even though he’d witnessed it all live, there was something still a little mesmerizing about watching the whirl of her lightsabers, even in reverse. She truly was a master of the form, that was hard to deny. If the action was difficult to follow in holo form, it must be positively dizzying to witness in person.

Her part in the footage was over quickly enough, and he focused his attention on the entire picture. He watched as the imperial figures on the recording in their attempt to set up their doomed attempt at a trap for the Jedi Master and her crew. Some stirrings of angry feelings tried to resurface, but he pushed them away. There was no time to indulge in that sort of nonsense. He had a much more important job to do.

It was a painstaking and at times infuriating process to watch as the Imperials ransacked the temple in reverse march. But he remained focused, steadfastly analyzing the images until a flash of something caught his attention. He paused the footage and shuttled it until he found it. He grabbed a still frame and brought it over to another piece of software to enhance the image and zoom in on the activity right outside the library. The details were a bit obscured from the cropped image, but was able to just make out a tall, imposing Chagrian in robes handing off what looked like an artifact of some sort to a group of Imperial soldiers.

Frowning, Theron zoomed in on the artifact more, and ran it through a program specially designed to enhance blurry and pixelated images. It used a combination of algorithmic predictions and artificial intelligence to fill in the blank pixels at higher resolutions. The processing power required by the program was intense enough that it was prohibitively expensive to deploy into the field, so Theron didn’t get a chance to use it much. He watched the screen in fascination as the software worked its image reconstruction magic in almost real time, seeing the pixelated details of the artifact slowly sharpen into focus. If he was a betting man, he’d put a few credits on this being the missing Rakatan artifact.

Target confirmed, he grabbed a few stills from other angles and repeated the process, until he gathered enough high-resolution stills to stitch together a rough, fully dimensional holographic representation of the stolen item. None of this told him the function of the artifact in question, or even why someone would go through the farce of storming strongholds of the galaxy’s most powerful Force users to retrieve them.

He pursed his lips together and set up a database query on his reconstruction and let it run. As the numbers and results flew by on the screen, Theron let his mind wander to the best way to determine the function and importance of the artifact. There were a few archaeologists in the Republic who specialized in Rakatan culture and tech who might have some insight. There would probably be too many questions though if some agent showed up at their office with an image of some old ruins, asking about their potential destructive capabilities and security risks. There was always employing a disguise, maybe an amateur archaeologist, a writer doing research for the next sensational holonovel. It could definitely yield some answers on why the Empire would go through the trouble of raiding Tython to get the artifact — or it could expose his investigation.

Theron decided not to risk it. Best to see what information the SIS database had and go from there.

While the query ran, he pulled up a report that someone in Analytics appended to the Tython incident. They’d scrubbed the comm logs and been able to get a clean image of the Sith Lord that Highwind had spoken with. Theron couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the numerous comments scribbled in the margins about the Jedi in question. Most of it was speculation about the Hero of Tython’s ridiculously competent combat capabilities, which Theron was becoming fairly familiar with at this point. It was the notes on the identity of the Sith Lord that Theron found more interesting. Apparently it had taken quite a bit of cross-referencing, but the report writer identified the figure as one Darth Arkous, a member of the Dark Council in charge of the Sphere of Military Offense. It made sense for someone in his position to be involved in the raid on Tython, but…

That funny niggling feeling that had plagued Theron from the start of all of this reared its head again. On a hunch, he pulled up the mass of data he’d siphoned off from Korriban. The nerds in Analytics had yet to finish delving into the virtual playground of potential intel, and the security footage that he’d obtained looked like it was on the bottom of the priority list to process. It suited him just fine, especially now that he knew what he was looking for.

Once again he started at a common reference point. This time was the stormy expression of his Jedi Knight Extraordinaire marching out of the Academy after Jensyn executed the Dark Council member in front of her. Theron tapped his finger on the desk, watching the angry set of her jaw and the dramatic fluttering of her cape as she made her way off camera. He blinked, but kept his eyes on the screen, curious to what he had missed after he’d looked away from the Academy’s interior. As the footage scrolled forward, he watched the dizzying activity of the SpecOps secure the temple. From this angle, they almost resembled little ants darting about. In fact, there was so much activity he nearly missed the elevator doors on the second floor opening as Jensyn stepped out. Theron paused his shuttling and cross-referenced the timecode as he paged through the various files to see if there was a better angle. The third recording that had a clear, unobstructed view of Jensyn handing off an artifact to one of his men. The soldier tucked the artifact under his arm and immediately headed for one of the shuttles leaving the surface. Theron viewed the entire exchange with a deep, troubled frown.

He repeated the process he’d used on the Tython footage, cobbling together various angles of the artifact together into a holographic representation. He pulled up his reconstruction of the other stolen artifact from the Jedi Temple and laid it and its Sith Academy counterpart side-by-side. They were an exact match.

His jaw ached as his teeth ground together, that familiar anger bubbling up from deep within his gut. The brooding session was cut short by an alert letting him know that his database query had finished. A quick reshuffling of his programs had everything up on screen, and Theron stared at the twin stolen artifacts alongside a readout from the SIS database confirming they were Rakatan in origin. The liner notes were sparse, as there was scant information available. No confirmation on their function, but a suspected origin from the Lehon system with a possible excavation date from nearly three hundred years prior.

“Gotcha,” Theron muttered in grim satisfaction.

There was no one around to hear it. And this sort of circumstantial evidence probably wouldn’t be admissible in any court, but it was enough confirmation for Theron that his suspicions had been warranted. Darok lied about the reason for the raid on Korriban. Or, as it was becoming clear, a robbery.

He made a few discreet copies of all the files pertinent to his investigation, being sure to diligently scrub each step of his data trail. It had edged past dusk into evening by the time he completely wiped his activities from the system. It was late enough that the commuter traffic thinned out, and the hovertrain ride back to his apartment was quiet, with only the occasional drunk swaying in the corner that paid him no mind. The trip was just long enough to mull over the evening’s revelations, and plan to dig further into his files back in the safety of his apartment with some leftover takeout.

A plan that, like most of his well-thought out ideas, derailed the moment he got in the door to his apartment. His implants sent him a ping — the HoloNet trace on Darok had picked up activity. No rest for the weary, nor apparently time for a meal of stale takeout. He pored over the details of the alert. Apparently Darok had arranged for some ships for travel. It was the destination on the manifest that made Theron quirk an eyebrow: Manaan.

“Now why would you be heading there?” Theron mused aloud. Much like in the empty office, there was no one to answer. It was just as well, because there was only one way to answer that question.

It was well past midnight by the time he’d made his own travel arrangements and a craft a proper cover story for them. He was about to close up everything for the night and catch a few hours of sleep, but as he stared at the screen, he hesitated. He sat in contemplation for a few moments, before opening up his mail terminal, and began typing.

> **To:** Theron Shan  
>  **From:** Greyias Highwind  
>  **Subject:** Noteworthy
> 
> It looks like our old pal is on the move in a few days here to Manaan. I’m gonna tag along — at a distance — and see what our friend is up to. I also found some rather interesting things in my research today. One might even call it _noteworthy_. If this lead pans out, I’ll have my astromech contact you with the details. Hopefully you’re all rested up and recovered after your little adventure.
> 
> I think things are about to get really interesting.


End file.
